


In Any Universe

by audreyslove



Series: OQ Happy Endings Week [4]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-26
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-01-23 07:18:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 23,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12501912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/audreyslove/pseuds/audreyslove
Summary: Regina flees after casting her mother to Wonderland.  She lives as a bandit until she bumps into guess who?





	1. Chapter 1

 

It’s oddly freeing, realizing that it’s not too late to change her fate.

 

Rumpelstiltskin told Regina she had no choice, that her fate was sealed.  That she had said the words at the ceremony, had made a pact with herself and the gods and the entire kingdom that she would stay and be their queen. It was too late now, too late to run away.

 

She had promised the heavens and earth to forever be the king’s doll, whore, show-thing, slut.  At least, that is the reality of her position, though she may be called “queen”, she was under no illusion of how the people really saw her.

 

But when she finally had the strength to get rid of her mother — to banish her to Wonderland— that protective forcefield fell, and she was no longer imprisoned in the castle.

 

So run she does, the hell with her oath, the hell with the voice in her head (the voice that sounds like the Imp) hat tells her she has to stay. She takes what she can, including some old linens of her handmaiden, something simple to wear hoping to blend in with the peasants.  She takes her jewels to pawn as quickly as she could… a small knapsack with a few days’ worth of food, and then she and Rocinante are off.

 

Regina is young, wild and impulsive, and more than ready for an adventure.

 

She had no idea what  she  was getting herself into.  

 

She figured there would be a hunt for her for a few days before she was declared dead and everyone moved on.  Leopold does not love her, and it will be easy to find a new pretty young plaything.

 

She's no longer just a betrothed woman, though.  She's the Queen.  And Leopold, well, he's a prideful man.  He offers a reward for his “kidnapped Queen” and her “beloved mother”.  The Imp is the suspect, the slimy creature seen wandering around the castle just before their disappearance.  

 

The search is so extensive, so thorough, that even in the depths of the forest she is not safe.  She cannot trade jewels for food, she cannot go into town during daylight at all.  

 

She steals hay, turnips, carrots, apples and eggs from a farmer.  She leaves a ruby behind, hoping he will see it on the high windowsill of the barn.  It is more payment than the items are worth, but well, who has change for a ruby?

 

Reginafinds a nearby tree with a thick nest of branches that she can sleep on.  She longs for a fire, but she cannot risk it, so she relies on the thick fur she travelled with, and a cloak to keep her warm.  It doesn't work, not always, but there's a clearing in the woods where the sun shines bright in the morning, and she soaks up all the warmth she can then.

 

Guards are trekking through the woods, and thank god for Daniel, may he rest in peace, he taught her how to evade pursuit, how to avoid a predator, how to hide in the woods.  And so she does.  The guards never go deep into the it, they don't go off trail, so she's fine.   She's hungry, tired, isolated and often lost, but she's alive, and that's what counts.

 

She's trying to find her way back to the river when she feels something whizz by her ear.  And then she sees the arrow fly in front of her hitting the far tree.

 

“Stop, milady!”

 

She turns to find the archer running towards her.  

 

 _Shit._ He's after the reward.

 

So she kicks Rocinante and sets him to a gallop… except it's hard, in the woods, with no trail.  the horse can't really travel too fast, amongst the trees and the slippery rocks. He's doing quite well until she feels the beast slide, and then he bucks wildly but does not move, and she notices the poor creature has his hoof caught in a tangle of vines.

 

She grabs her pocket knife and intends to make quick work of freeing Rocinante, but he's spooked and jerking in the shrubbery, getting even more tangled as he fights.  

She just has to set him free and they will be off.

 

“That won’t help. Your horse is injured, not stuck,” a voice calls out.

 

Double Shit.

 

She's caught for sure now, by this man, this archer.  She looks up assuming she will be facing the pointed side of an arrow... but no.  The man is hurrying to help her with her horse.

 

He's right.  Rocinante isn't stuck.  He's in pain.  The shrubbery might have caused him to sprain or twist something,

 

She's in shock as the man gently guides her steed onto safer ground.  The horse is favoring that leg.  He can't run, can't ride.  Fuck, they are exposed. She follows, unable to think of any better plan.  

 

“He's dehydrated,” he mutters, “You and he will come to my camp, and you both will recover there.”

 

God the sound of a camp, of human contact, it sounds so nice.  But she can’t let herself even dream of warm meals and conversation around a fire (god a _fire)_ , because she can’t trust anyone.  So she screws her face into a proud scowl and asks, “I don't even know who you are, why would I go with you?”

 

“Do you have any better options?” The man asks, amused.  “And my name is Robin, Robin of Locksley, but you may know me as Robin Hood.”

 

“I don't know you at all,” she says with a sigh.  To be true, it sounds familiar, but she never cared for learning the names of outlaws in the kingdom.  She didn't share Mother's disdain or fear of them, and never heard anything particularly interesting about any of them.

 

“So will you come with me to camp, or are you going to run this poor creature down until he breaks that leg?” Robin asks.

 

“And if I go to camp with you what will become of me?” Regina asks, “What is your plan?”

 

“My plan, milady, is to let you stay with us at camp until your horse is healthy and healed.”

 

He keeps calling her that.  “Milady”.  He doesn't recognize her as the queen, she thinks.  Doesn't even recognize her as a noble.  And that's good, perhaps she's not as recognizable as she thinks.

 

“And then what?” Regina asks sarcastically, “What will become of me when Rocinante is healed?”

 

“Well, milady, that's not up to me, or anyone.  That's up to you. There are no slaves in the forest.  Your fate is your own.  Always.”

 

It's then that she sees him, truly sees him.  He's… very good looking.  A nice smile.  White teeth, unusual for a forest bandit.  Something about him looks regal, but he smells of forest and campfire, not of incense and fine clothes. She believes that he's safe.  And hell, her gut has gotten her this far, why not rely on it just this once?

 

.::.

 

His camp is nice enough.  It's all men, dirty, smelly lawless outlaws, but they welcome her and respect her and refrain from making lewd comments or grabbing at her, and hell, that's more than she can say for her husband, isn't it?

 

Robin does not leave her side for that first day and night in camp.  it feels… stifling.  So she says so, over stew and by the fire as they sit against a tree, just a bit removed from the rest of the men.

 

“Am I not free to leave?”

 

“Of course you are,” Robin counters, “why do you say that?”

 

“Because you've barely let me go further than an arm’s length since we got here,” she reminds “and if I am a prisoner here, I think I should know.”

 

“I’d never hold you against your will, milady.  But I just need to make it clear to my men that you are important to me.  And then I'll give you your space.  My point has been made, I believe.”

 

“Why do you need them to think I am important to you?” Regina asks softly, “I'm not, I'm no one, I'm just—”

 

“You're just the Queen,” Robin says gently, leaning over to tuck that stubborn strand of hair behind her ear.  The one that always hides part of her face, but apparently not her identity.

 

She freezes.  She didn't think… she thought he didn't know.  Why else would he treat her the way he does?  So ordinary, so normal. As if she weren't royalty, as if she weren't a prize to cash in for a reward.  It's curious, how he looks at her, in light of what she is.  He should despise her.  She's royalty, part of the establishment hell bent on destroying him.

 

“What are you—” she starts to deny it, but looking in his eyes, she realizes it's fruitless.  He looks at her with... pity, almost.  She takes a deep breath and draws it out slowly.  “When did you find that out?”

 

“The moment I first saw you,” he chuckles.  “Your poster is all over the forest. And it's not an easy face to forget.”

 

The way he says that, it's... meant as a compliment, she thinks.  Something in his expression looks heated and, the way his eyes wander over the features of her face, down her body.

 

She mimics the motion, and decides that his is also not an easy face to forget.

 

“Oh.” She loses the ability to speak for a moment, staring into those eyes.  It feels like minutes pass before she takes a deep breath and finds her voice. “Why haven't you turned me in for your reward yet?”

 

“I wouldn't turn you back there for all the gold in the kingdom,” he says earnestly.  “I may be a thief, but I live by a code.  And my code would never allow for returning a lady to be unjustly imprisoned.  Even if that prison is a palace, and her prison guard a king.”

 

She swallows heavily.  How does he know these things?

 

“The posters say I've been kidnapped,” she reminds. “Aren't you wondering how I escaped them, and why I haven't returned to my castle?”

 

He chuckles.  “It's true that the posters say that.  But a teenager and her mother are missing and no guard or servant has seen a thing, and here in the villages there's never been whisper of a single plot to kidnap the new queen.  Plus those who attended the royal wedding... they saw the sadness in your eyes.” He pauses and places his hand on hers, gives a gentle squeeze, before taking that warmth away from her.  “Regina… though it may be considered treason in your kingdom to ever speak of this, I dare say it's the common belief that you were married against your will, and you and your mother ran away.”

 

“Not my mother…” she murmurs.  “She wanted me to marry the king, desperately.  I--I had to escape her first.  Before I could—”

 

“Ah so the rumors of Cora are true,” Robin says with a sly smile,  “You'll have to forgive me, but there's a sizeable reward for you, and your story is the talk of the town.  Most believe your mother helped you escape, but a few who claim to know of your mother say she'd never help her daughter escape the throne, since she so desperately craved it for herself.”

 

“Those words are true,” Regina gives, looking into his eyes shyly.  “If she finds me, it's as good as the King’s own men finding me.”

 

Robin nods, then add thoughtfully.  “Overall, though, the fact you are traveling without your mother is to your advantage.  Most of the kingdom is looking for two women together.  And I don't believe anyone heard word that you escaped with your horse so... another victory.”

 

“I suppose I should celebrate small victories where I find them” she says wryly.  She looks up at the moon, at the smoke billowing from the campfire.  At the simple freedom that's here in the forest, where no beast has a master, where nature is able to web and weave itself as it sees fit.

 

“Why can't they just let me be free?” she asks to no one in particular.  To the sky, the fire, the creatures of the woods, the gods... to anyone.

 

Robin grabs her hand again and moves it to his lap.  But instead of just giving it a squeeze he's caressing her palm with calloused fingers while his other hand gently holds it, the action is... probably less intimate than when he went so far as to wipe away a strand of hair, but this means more.  This is a touch to comfort.  Her body goes warm and liquid, a tingle appears at the back of her neck at the thought of someone _caring_ about her this much.

 

“I meant what I said,” he soothes.  “In my eyes you belong to no one but yourself.”

 

They say nothing, just sit and listen to the crackling of the fire.  She feels her body go heavy, feels herself sagging into him.

 

He is warm and smells of pine and mint leaves, his body is hard and chilled but he feels soft at the same time.  She could rest against him forever.

 

“Where do I sleep?” she asks, fighting a yawn.

 

“My tent.  I'll sleep outside it for the night.” She begins to protest that she won't take his tent, but he will hear nothing of it.  “I should let you know that I am certain that at least one of my men recognizes you.  There's a sizeable reward for you, and I need to make certain that none of them even entertain the idea of taking you.”

 

She's too tired to argue and pretend she doesn't need protecting. So she lets herself take the act of kindness.

 

Regina hasn't known kindness from anyone except her father and Daniel, and it's difficult to see that kind people actually have existed all along.  Cora surrounded her with so many vile people, she had thought the world was made up of them, with only small unusual exceptions.  But here is a stranger, being kind for no reason, and it almost restores her faith in mankind.

 

She sleeps well that night, in a man's tent that smells of pine and earth, the scent and warmth of the campfire wafting gently in.  She feels safe for the first time she can remember.  As silly as it sounds.

 

.::.

 

In two weeks time, Rocinante’s leg is still not healed.

 

Regina, however, is healing quite nicely.  She’s well fed, well hydrated, and finally warm.  

 

She has her own tent now.  Robin had showed up with a canvas tarp and some thick wool blankets one day, and had set up camp for her right next to his without saying a word.  

 

She tries to contribute, to help, and hell, learn something about hunting for herself.  Robin helps her with the bow and arrow, but early on he realizes it's pointless.

 

“You have a soft spot for animals,” he chuckles, as she yet again fails to shoot at a rabbit scurrying in the wilderness.  

 

“No, I just lack the skill to kill them,” Regina groans, “There's an important difference.”

 

But he's just smiling at her affectionately.  “You always hit the bullseye now, but when it comes to shooting an animal, you hesitate, catch your breath, and close your eyes.  It's actually quite adorable.”

 

She frowns, embarrassed. Her secret seems to have gotten out.  And what will become of her if she is to be a solitary bandit?  How will that work if she cannot kill her own dinner? She has to get better.

 

“It's nothing to be ashamed of,” Robin soothes.  “Tuck cannot kill either.  But he did learn how to fish.  Can we try that?”

 

Robin teaches her how to fish in the river, the best place to wait, how to capture crayfish with her hands, how to debone and skin the fish.

 

Fish lack the warmth of the animals of the forest.  Though she does not revel in watching them flop and spasm outside of the water, she can bare this.  

 

She can fish.

 

And what’s more, she’s quite skilled at de-scaling and de-boning.  Nearly no meat is wasted, every tender piece saved under her careful attentions.

 

Regina thinks that is how Robin first decides she would make a good healer.

 

It could also be that he’s seen the attention she pays to her wounds.   It's not much, just how to disinfect with alcohol, and how to carefully clean and cover open cuts, but he seems impressed, watching over her with a sort of reverence she enjoys.

 

“Come here,” he says to her one night, after seeing her clean the wound on Alan a Dale’s finger (“even a small cut can fester” she had said, insisting on tending to it.

He takes her to Tuck’s tent, where a series of books are stacked against the sides.  

 

Before she can even begin to ask what they are doing he’s shoving books in her hand.

 

“These are for you.  Textbooks and study material for healers.  We were always supposed to have someone train in this field but...well, none of the men had the patience.  Or the inclination.  But something tells me you...”  He pauses, staring at her in that way that makes her feel so...cherished.  “You seem to be a natural.”

 

“I won't be here for much longer,” she reminds him.  “I won't be able to learn much in the next few weeks.”

 

He smiles at her sadly, the way he always does when she reminds him she will leave.

 

“Study what you can while you are here.  Then take the books and the knowledge with you to wherever you may go.  My gift to you.”

 

She likes studying about this.  It's sort of like magic, like the Dark One’s potions, but instead of causing destruction and death and pain, she can soothe aches, heal wounds, maybe even save lives.

 

She likes feeling useful and _good._ She likes spending her day making _others_ feel better, then spending her nights beside a fire with Robin, trading stories over a hearty stew.  

 

Sometimes he touches her, just an arm around her back, or a hand on her thigh.  It's natural to him, he probably doesn't even notice he's done it.  But for her the touch is a welcome, loving surprise.  It makes her warm inside, makes her head rush with a tingly lightness she's only experienced while riding Rocinante at full speed.

 

He's so wonderful to look at.  She wishes she had the pleasure of looking at him every day.

 

That could be a good life, she supposes.

 

Most nights they talk until her eyes are blurry with sleep.  On those night, he walks her back to her tent.  He whispers, “Goodnight, Regina,” and it makes her blush, every time.

 

Robin checks in on her, late one evening when she doesn’t expect him.  She'd been fastening her own pallet out of straw and some blankets, and the sight makes him smile broadly.

 

Silly, she won't be able to take this with her when she leaves, which is any day now.  And his smile is so warm and happy that she knows he's hoping this means that she will stay.

 

And she doesn't want to leave, but she can't stay.

 

One day she notices Rocinante no longer hesitates during exercise.  She thinks he still needs more help, that she still has some days left.  But then she overhears Friar Tuck talking to Will, saying that he doesn't have the heart to tell Regina that the horse has fully healed and the conditioning is no longer necessary. 

She weeps.

She continues to sob all night and into the morning because she knows what she has to do.

And she can't say goodbye, absolutely cannot, so she does not.

She leaves, early in the morning before anyone wakes.  Takes Rocinante and the supplies she came in with (the bow and arrow and woolen blanket she keeps, too, she figures it's not stealing if she's been given it), leaves a jewel for their troubles, and rides off into the sunrise.

 

.::.

 

The next few days are cold.  There are blankets to warm her, and a fire she thinks is safe to make now, but she's lacking the warmth of conversation she is grown accustomed to over the last few weeks.  Companionship is not what she is built for.  She's known that she would live her life in isolation, has resigned herself to this since Daniel left this earth.  She hates herself for missing those loud, brash men.  One loud, brash man in particular.  

She can fish now, and knows what berries are edible and which are poisonous.  She knows where some of the fruit bearing trees are, and collects from them, careful to listen for others before she robs the trees of everything nutritious and edible she can carry.

Soon, hopefully, the kingdom will move on to other things, and she can sneak into town and sell the jewels she has.  Enough to get her a small room somewhere, while she gets on her feet.

She can train with a healer, perhaps.  She feels she has a natural skill in that.

But for now, she can only focus on surviving.

Robin had taught her a bit on tracking.  It wouldn't work for hunting, since she could never bring herself to kill them.  But it _did_ work for tracking people.  She spots broken branches and stomped earth, wagon wheel marks and is cautious to avoid whoever lies in the path ahead of her.  She listens carefully for sounds of men approaching, always finding a place to hide or run well before they ever get close.

Except, well, this time.

She's at her makeshift camp, just far enough from the trail and the river to avoid being happened across.  She's eating figs and pecans, while her stomach rumbles and she wishes she could go back to the palace just for a day and partake in the decadent food of the Kingdom.  She's daydreaming about that, when she hears the ruffling of leaves close by. 

How has she not heard them sooner?

“Stop!” she cries into the brush.  “I am armed, I won't hesitate to use this!”

The rustling gets closer.

“Stand back!  Reveal yourself and tell me what brings you here.”

Still the person silently walks towards her.  He's close, but hidden in thick bushes.  She can't see him, but she can guess where his head is well enough, from the shadows around him and the swaying of branches nearby, he’s given his height away.

She shoots her arrow then, and hopes for the best.

“Aye!” a familiar voice cries, more annoyed than angry or scared. 

The he approaches.  He's carrying her arrow in one hand, wearing the biggest smile she ever did see. 

“That arrow nearly took off my head,” he quips, and then winks at her. “It seems you have no hesitation when it comes to shooting men, I should probably ask the good witch to transform me into a stag.  I'd have better luck with you.”

She rolls her eyes and bites hard at her bottom lip. _Don't smile. Don't laugh. Don't let that blush creep up on your cheeks. Stay away from him_.  “What are you doing here, Robin?” 

“Looking for you,” he admits with a shrug.  He walks right up to her, close, so close, and touches her cheek.  It feels right, feels wonderful, but she turns from the touch, denying herself the pleasure of his comfort.  

“Why did you sneak off, Regina?”

She scowls and walks away, putting distance between them.  “I didn't sneak off, I left.  I was always going to leave, that was always the plan.  Don't act so surprised.”

 

“Oh, Regina, not like that.  You didn't even say goodbye.  You just…”

 

“I noticed Rocinante had healed, and I saw no reason to stay,” she maintains.  “Was I not allowed to leave?”

 

“Of course you could leave at any time,” Robin says softly, “but to go without even giving me a chance to see you one last time…”

 

She softens for a minute, lets him walk towards her, and stroke her arms tenderly.

 

And then her crumbling resolve rebuilds, and she snaps away from him.

 

“Stop it!  I don't know what you've come up in your head, but believe me, I’m not interested.  There's nothing between us, and there never will be. Quit your delusions and go back to your camp with your men!” She waves him off, ignores the fact that he words taste sour in his mouth.

 

He looks like she actually had shot him with that arrow, face screwed in pain.  He doesn't hide it, not one bit, and all that sorrow, all that hurt, spills out of him and splashes on to her.

 

She doesn't like seeing him unhappy, it turns out.  

 

“Yes well, I suppose I deluded myself into believing you actually cared for me, or any of us.” He rolls his eyes bitterly.  “You are such a good actress, _your Majesty.”_

 

“Don't call me that!” She's angry, hands balled into fists at her side.  “You know how much I hate that title.”

 

“I don't know much if anything about you anymore, _my Queen._ ” he turns around, ready to leave, and then adds, “I'm glad to see your horse well.  Be careful with him.  I wouldn't want you to hurt _everyone_ who cares for you.”

 

.::.

 

The guards search for her everywhere.  

 

There is a rumor that she had been spotted on the edge of the woods, tied up and in the arms of two bandits.  It's a false rumor of course but it drew attention to the area, and now hiding has become… difficult.  Especially with Rocinante, who is not the most quiet of animals.  

 

She's evading one group of guards when another group approaches from the opposite direction.

 

“Hault!” A guard yells from behind her.  He doesn't know who she is, not with her cloak up and riding as fast, but he certainly wants to question her, and that will be the end of it.

 

She rides fast, weaving through the woods to try to avoid the two groups of guards from catching her, but she cannot run forever, it's only a matter of time, its…

 

A third group meets her eye, has her spinning the horse around and bucking wildly as they shout for her to stop.  they shoot arrows at her, and Rocinante cannot go up the steep rocky mountains, so that area is off, so she's gotta...she must take the path to the right...

 

“Quickly, this way!”

 

Robin.  He's on horseback (rare for him) and he's leading her near his camp.  She has no time to second guess his decision to do this, but it occurs they are leading guards into a camp of wanted bandits.  She's dangerous, too dangerous for them.

 

“Here,” he says, “stop here.”

 

A few of the men are on horsebacks, wearing cloaks, just as she is.  

 

“You are safe,” Tuck says, looking at her warmly.

 

She is looking for the rest of his men when she hears the steady thwack of fallen arrows.  

 

“On behalf of the King, stand down!” A guard cries.  Regina sees the rest of the merrie men hiding in trees and crouching behind bushes.

 

They are protecting her.  Fighting for her.

 

After everything.  

 

And she could just about cry.

 

“This is Sherwood, land of King Richard!” shouts Robin, “you guards are outside of your jurisdiction.  Turn around, if you want to spare your lives. We will attack, on behalf of our King, and we _will_ be victorious.”

 

She laughs, and shares a look with Tuck.   _On behalf of our King._ Robin is just as despised by King Richard as he is by King Leopold.

 

The guards are not persuaded, however.  And they approach.

 

Robins men slaughter them in a matter of minutes.  The men set traps, poisoned darts that are aimed at those who approach from the sides.  There are the skilled archers hiding in the trees, taking the guards down easily.  

 

The men cheer.

 

“Now, milady, Tuck whispers, “will you stay us for dinner, or will you break all our hearts and run away again?”

 

She pushes tears back and nods.

 

She will stay for dinner.  Just for dinner.

 

.::.

 

It's similar to before, sitting around the fireplace and eating stew with the men.  But oh, so different.  

 

For one thing, she has not shared a word with Robin all night, whereas before she spent every moment of dinner as close to him as she would let herself.

 

Tuck and Will keep her laughing, catch her up on antics she'd missed.  She shares a bit about her life since she left them, though there's not much to tell, she says.

 

It's just been a lot of surviving alone in the woods, for her.

 

She leaves the fire, telling the men she is off to feed Rocinante an apple.  And she is, but she also has to leave.  And she's not good with goodbyes, so she will skip them entirely.

 

She's stroking Rocinante when he approaches.

 

“Off so soon?” he asks softly.  She turns and scowls.  No sense in denying it.

 

“I said I'd stay for dinner.  Dinners over.”

 

“You _really_ like making a dramatic exit, don't you?” His voice isn't angry or judgmental, just soft and amused.

 

“I don't like saying goodbye,” Regina admits, ducking from his eyes.  “Formalities are… annoying.”

 

“Mmm,” Robin says, leaning against a nearby tree, still looking at her with that infuriating expression.  So, soft, so sweet.

 

“You saved my life.  You put your men at risk for me.  I do want you to know... well, I'm grateful, thank you.”

 

He chuckles.  “I’d do it a hundred times over, you know.”

 

He doesn't see her blush, he can't.  Not in the moonlight.

 

“I want to apologize,” he says, stepping closer to her.

 

But why should _he_ apologize to _her?_

 

“I was angry.  And hurt, and I… I shouldn't have called you that—”

 

She shrugs.  “Called me what?”

 

He shakes his head.  He seems to know it cut her deep, having the man who cares so much about her calling her queen. “My feelings were no excuse to taunt you about  the marriage that was arranged against your will.  Forgive me.”

 

She nods, but says nothing. He tentatively opens his arms to her, and she walks into them, welcomes the embrace.  She even places her arms on his back as he holds her.

 

“This can't happen,” she finally says, voice still cracking from tears.

 

“What can't happen?” Robin asks, “You can't stay with men who adore you, who can help keep you safe, who need you?”

 

She doesn't answer, but doesn't leave his arms.

 

“Why did you leave?” he asks softly

 

She rips herself from his arms, and takes a step back, trying to remember the reasons she must be alone.  But it's been a long day, and she's so tired of fighting the truth, and hell, he doesn't deserve it.

 

“I was scared.”

 

“Of what?” he asks curiously.

 

She shrugs.  “Everyone I care about tends to be taken from me.  So I— I didn't want it to happen again.”

 

“You care for me?” He is playing a dangerous game, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, touching her in ways she should not allow.

 

“I care for _all_ of you,” she says pointedly.  “You helped me and my horse recover, you taught me how to fend for myself, I’m grateful.  Of course I care about John, and Tuck, and Will, and—”

 

“And also for me.” He's got that shit eating grin and rolls her eyes.

 

“You just saved my life, don't pretend you don't care for me, either.”

 

“Oh, I won't pretend.  And I do.  Care for you.  Quite a bit.” She didn't expect the honesty.  It catches her off guard, has her softening him. “I missed you, Regina.  I shouldn't say this, and I know you don't want to hear it, but…” he places a hand on her cheek, rubbing thumbs on the apples of them.  “I would gladly spend my life dodging your arrows if it meant I got to see you everyday.”

 

She's tired of running.  Tired of feeling guilty.  Tired of everything, and that's why she kisses him, finally.

 

He is surprised, she can feel the little jolt that goes through his body, the way he jumps before he reciprocates the kiss, and that's good, she supposes, that she was able to conceal what she was feeling from him, should she ever want to hide anything from him in the future.

 

.::.

 

She doesn't want to hide things from him anymore. He is soft, and gentle with her, and very patient. They kiss, quite a bit, but it's in secret, under the stars and away from camp, under the hot sun when they are supposed to be fishing, inside his tent when they are supposed to be planning the next heist. They never intend to kiss, but it just keeps happening.

 

Robin never tries for more.  Never.  And she wonders about that.  Her insecurities get her, eat away at her.  Robin may live in a forest _now_ but he grew up a nobleman, and she knows what he expects of his ladies.

 

He's kissed her goodnight tonight, for far longer than she'd expected.  But not once did his hand ever slide to an area that was inappropriate, not once did he ever pull her against him (she had moved close to him in her own, thank you very much).  He did not even attempt to give her anything more than sweet pecks on her cheek, neck and lips, it was she who deepened it, added her tongue, made it more passionate.

 

She feels him, hard against her hip as she presses close against him.  It's then that he pulls away and breaks the kiss.  “I should get back to my tent.” He gives her this apologetic look that screams awkward, given the situation.  “It's… uh… late.”

 

He doesn't want more from her.  And it kills her that he doesn't.  And she thinks she knows why.

 

He turns from her, and is nearly out of her tent when she when she blurts it out.

 

“I left before my wedding night, you know.” Her cheeks at hot, her eyes watery, and she cursed herself for her emotions getting the best out of her.

 

“I remember, you left on your wedding night, the palace was—”

 

“No, _before_ my wedding night.  Before he— before the King—”

 

She fights every instinct to look down, sticks her chin upwards instead.  She tries to get this out without getting upset.

 

“I'm unsullied. So—”

 

He grimaces.  “Don't use that word.  Sex does not sully a woman. He couldn't sully you, even if....”

 

She rolls her eyes.  “Those are pretty words.  If only they were true.”

 

“They are,” he insists, searching for her eyes.  She focuses on the pallet below her.  She won't look at him.

 

“Regina... what do you think of me?  Do you think it would make a difference in how I feel about you?”

 

She looks up at him now, and bites “Hasn't it?  You can kiss me when you're bored or the mood strikes, but you wouldn't dream of—”

 

“Oh I dream of, all the time,” he quips, “I dream of ravaging you, and only you, every night.  And not one of those nights do I worry about whether you are a virgin, by the way.” He slides next to her in the tent.  “You are high born.  I know, absent a marriage, these are things I want that you cannot give.  I want you to know I will always treat you as you deserve. Anything we do must be your choice.”

 

That's… oh.

 

Oh.

 

If he didn't sound so sincere, she'd swear he was lying. Never in her life has she felt the way he makes her feel.  Like she's worth sacrificing for.  Like she's worth anything at all.  

 

She wants to wrap her arms tightly around him and tell him she never wants to let him go, but it's still hard for her, being open.

 

She she opts for teasing him, something she feels safe, and skilled at, if she does say so herself.  “And what would your choice be?”

 

He chuckles.  “You're a lady.  I'm not going to share such thoughts with you.”

 

Her lips curve into a sly grin.  “I'm a lady.  And I'm asking you.”

 

He laughs, and urges her lay down on her pallet.  he joins her, laying on his side facing her. “I dream of stripping you of every inch of clothing, everything, and kissing every inch of you.  That would be one of my more… polite thoughts, if you'll believe it.”

 

He's touching her now, over clothes, with the back of his hand. It's so light, so innocent, but it feels so good to finally feel his hands wander over her, to touch her neck, her chest, her hips, her ass, her thighs.

 

“Gods, do you even know how gorgeous you are?  How tempted I am by you, everyday?”

 

He kisses her then, but not the chaste kisses he always starts with, not those gentle kisses he waits for _her_ to deepen.  This time he kisses her with passion and heat and sets her aflame.

 

“Is this alright?” he asks, cupping her ass tightly, and yes, it's more than alright, it feels wonderful.

 

She shifts in her night clothes, bunches up the slip she sleeps in so he's touching her underclothes.

 

“This is alright.”

 

“Oh gods, Regina.”

 

He seems to respond to the way she moans and arches into his hand, his touches becoming firmer with every breathy little sound she makes, until he is kneading and groping at her with such vigor she can barely breathe.

 

“Robin!” she moans against his cheek.  

 

“Tell me what you want,” he begs, kissing at her neck and shoulders.  “You have to lead, you have to be sure.”

 

But she truly is pure, shockingly so when it comes to these matters.  And as such, she doesn't know what she wants.

 

So she does the only thing she  knows she wants, and works on ridding them of clothes.  She fumbles with buttons and light fabric, until he is shirtless and she is without her slip, naked save for her underwear.  

 

There's a hunger in his gaze that surprises her.  

 

He spends time on her breasts first, sucking and licking and whispering how gorgeous she is, how her  much he's craved seeing her bare like this, how long he's thought about this very moment… pHe makes her feel so precious and desired in a way she is not quite prepared for.

 

He makes good on his word, kissing every inch of exposed flesh. His kisses are electrifying, spark such a desire within her she feels she will burst if he doesn't stop.

 

When Robin reached the scrap of fabric between her legs, he's careful not to move it, to leave it in place.  And for once Regina is grateful he's such a gentleman, because she's not sure she's ready to be that exposed.  But as he continues to kiss her thighs, a warm hand settles over her sex and slowly adds pressure.  She finds herself pushing against that hand, gasping for the small relief it provides with each thrust.

 

His lips graze over her, and he begins to kiss her there, right over the cotton she wears, gentle sucking pressure spreading warmth over her body, pooling in her belly.

 

“Mmm, _oh!_ Robin fuck, _mm_ , don’t stop.” she thrashes her head back, surprised at the feel of him.

 

“Love when you curse,” Robin chuckles, looking up at her as if she had just said something poetic and beautiful.  “And when you say my name, gods, how it makes me feel— you’ve no idea, love.”

 

Even through the fabric, his mouth is amazing, has her panting and biting her lip hard to keep from being too loud (the men will _not_ hear her, she would die of embarrassment if they did).  

 

Her fingernails scrape at his scalp as he works over her.  She's wet, so wet, between her legs, it soaks through, so he must be able to feel it, must know it is not just his own spit that’s dampened the clothing between her legs.  She'd be embarrassed except he's making these little moans into her sex with every slow pass of his tongue, and she feels pleasure building inside of her, until she feels like she is soaring.

 

He doesn't let up, until the feeling spins out and spills over, has her quaking and shaking as she falls over that edge, hands now tugging at his hair as she comes and comes.

 

When she eventually falls back to earth,embarrassment settles within her, her sodden panties and Robin’s smug little smile evidence of what had transpired.  He didn't even need to touch her bare skin, and she was still a stammering mess.  

 

“Beautiful,” he assures, kissing her deeply.  “I want to be with you in every way you'll let me.  There's no one else I want.  I just... I need to know this is what you want, too.”

 

Of course it is.  But she warns him she's not ready to share their relationship openly with the other men.

 

And he assures her it is nothing they need advertise.

 

So Robin does not kiss her by the campfire.  Regina does not spend the night in his tent.  They do not call each other pet names, or stare longingly at one another (at least, she hopes they do not.  He’s nice to stare at, and it takes work to avoid doing so).  

 

But in private, oh, in private they become increasingly more intimate.  Robin continues to explore her body, sending her over that peak through her clothes, always careful to give her what she wants by respecting a boundary she's not set herself, but hasn't exactly torn down yet either.

 

She reaches for him one night, grabbing his erection through pants while she is still coming down from her high, all smiling and serene.

 

“Woah…” he says, placing his hand over hers.  “You… you sure?”

 

“Yes,” she answers, lips curving into a smile.  “Teach me how.”

 

She's never seen him more nervous, and she's even more endeared to him.  This confident smug man she's quickly caring about more than she thought possible is nearly shaking as he removes his trousers.  She touches him, grips him, and his hands fall over hers and guide them the way he needs.

 

She likes this, being able to work _him_ up, see _him_ chase his release.  It's a different type of pleasure, watching as he moans and writhes under her touch, begging for her to slow down, so he can make this last just a bit longer.  He bites at the bedding to tamp down his moans, until he finally begs her to go _faster_ , because he has to come, gods he has to come.

 

It's warm and wet in her palm, and while she should think of it as dirty, it somehow makes her crave him even more.  

 

That's the first night she guides his hand underneath the hem of her panties and asks that he touch her _for real_ now.

 

They grow ever closer during the day.  She likes so much about him.  His sense of humor, his snarky wit, his caring nature.  He courage, storytelling ability, the way he _respects_ her.  She really, really like likes him.  More than likes.

 

But still, she resists so much as holding his hand in front of his men, keeping their relationship a secret.  She doesn't think of it as hiding, not really, but Robin seems to see it that way.  When she moves away from him as his men approach, she catches that sad little pout fall over his face.

 

She tells herself it's to avoid the teasing of his men, but deep down she knows that if they knew, it would make all of this _real._ And then she'd have to admit her feelings for Robin are more than just _liking_ him.

 

Instead she focuses on releasing that emotion into their evening activities.

 

One night she pushes his head down and asks that there be nothing between her and his tongue.  In another week, he shyly asks if she would like to try something.  It won't defile her, will still leave her in tact if it's just one finger, he explains.

 

She nods her head desperately, and asks for it in a way that has him moaning.  

 

And gods, it's amazing.  She feels dizzy with arousal and need that builds until it overflows over her in deep rushing waves.  If it feels like this with just one finger, she can only imagine what his cock feels like.

 

She asks for it, one night, emboldened by ale and orgasms.  She grabs him, gives him a firm stroke, and then tugs him towards the apex of her thighs with a little desperate moan of desire.  She wants him, all of him.  She wants to finally feel him inside her, to come together.  He groans, clenches his eyes tight and throws his head back, whispering _I can’t._

 

“I want to, _fuck_ , Regina how I want to, but I cannot.  Not when we aren't truly together.  I don't want your first time to be a quiet fuck in a tent where we must pretend nothing has happened the next night.  And I don't want to leave you for the night after you give yourself to me.  I don't want you to ever regret this.”

 

She's touched, truly, and the words have tears welling inside her.  So she forces them down, and opts for sarcasm. _“_ Are you saying you oppose premarital sex?” She asks, through a smile, though her eyes shine with tears she won't let fall.  

 

She knows Robin has been with others.  Has no delusions over this.  

 

He chuckles, but does not answer her question.  “I'm not beyond compromise.  I’d settle for love.  So you tell me when you feel the same as I do, and then I'll put out,” he quips back.  It happens so fast it barely registers, has he just told her he loves her?

 

Her face screws in surprise, but before she can say anything, he's kissing her.  “Sorry.  It wasn't exactly how I planned on telling you how I feel,” he chuckles, “Tomorrow I shall give you a list of the thousand reasons why I love you, but tonight...” He moves her til she is laying in her back, planting kisses along her shoulder, “I plan on ravaging you until sunrise.”

 

.::.

 

Will gallops into camp one Thursday afternoon with a proud smile that usually indicates he had been able to trade well with the other villagers, or he had been able to steal a significant amount from the ruling class.

 

But it seems he has another obtained a different kind of gem.

 

“You've been found, your majesty,” Will tells her, eyes full of mischief.

 

Her blood rushes cold.  “What?”  She looks around for signs of guards approaching but hears nothing.

 

“Yes, you were found last night.  Sadly, you'd been beaten to death.  Your funeral will be in three days time.” Will smiles warmly.  “They have given up finding you, milady.  They have faked your death so the kingdom can move on.”

 

She's never been happier to hear news of a funeral in all her life.

 

They celebrate that night, for it truly is a blessing to all of them.  She knows their lives were complicated by harboring a fugitive, though they never once complained or showed her anything but comfort, and for that she's forever grateful.

 

Robin stands up by the fire and raises a glass of whiskey in the air. “The Queen is dead.  Long live Regina!”

 

“Long live the Princess of Thieves!” Will returns, and the men laugh.  

 

“They say _until death do you part_ , so she's right single now, given that she's technically dead!” Alan shouts back.

 

“Does that mean Robin can take her on a proper date?” John quips, “I'm getting tired of pretending I don't know why he has suddenly taken an interest in fishing and berry picking.”

 

Her cheeks heat.  Apparently their relationship isn't the well-kept secret she thought it was.

 

But truly, it's not as terrifying as it once was.  In fact, it warms her heart, has her excited and _happy_.

 

She's not the queen anymore.  And no one is coming to take her away from him.

 

She can let herself be.

 

Robin looks at her sheepishly as the men trade more jokes. “Sorry” he whispers to her, “I didn't know.”

 

“It's okay,” Regina assures.  She takes his hand in hers, as everyone stares at them.  They hoot and holler at the small act of affection, and she smiles at her little audience gratefully.  “Can't determine when the next shipment of gold is coming into the kingdom to save your lives, but this, this you uncover quite easily.  To your priorities!” She winks at them playfully, and they raise a glass to the mock toast with pride.

 

And after taking another sip of whiskey, she steals her first public kiss from the thief beside her, and whispers “I love you,” in his ear.  He returns the words (and the kiss) with this passionate sincerity that takes her breath away.

 

.::.

 

They don't mask love that night.  There's too much mead and whiskey, too much celebration and laughter.  By the time it all dies down, she is bone-tired and dragging. He walks her to her tent, intent on dropping her off, she supposes, but she has another idea.

 

“Your tent is bigger,” she whispers, voice slurred and whiskey laced, “can we just go there?”

 

She doesn't realize til she catches that smug smile that she's asking to sleep with him — actually sleep — for the first time.

 

She feels safe and small and loved in his arms, and gets a better night’s rest than she has since she can remember.

 

.::.

 

A few days after “The Queen’s” funeral, Robin declares it safe for Regina to venture into town.  

 

It's been nearly two months since she has sat on a chair indoors, and she's missed it more than she can imagine.  It's warm and dry in this tavern, and the food and drink is plentiful that night.  She indulges in all of it, along with plenty of kisses from Robin as the night grows late and she loses her shyness amidst the feeling of a warm belly and a fuzzy, alcohol clouded head.

 

She's not drunk, just delightfully buzzed as she reminds Robin of the jewels she stole from the palace when she escaped, and how one pearl could buy them a room and a bath, easily.

 

She expects him to argue, but he does not, only extracts himself from men after whispering something to Little John.  John pats him on the back and chuckles before pressing a finger to his lips, an unspoken agreement to keep whatever he's been told a secret.

 

Robin speaks to the tavern owner and collects a room key before he slinks away with her up the stairs to their room.

 

He never pushes, takes his time with her, focuses his energy on pleasing her, kissing her in the places where she's sensitive, working her up, until they are both dizzy with need.

 

She grabs at his trousers, unlacing them frantically.  She's just come down from a mind blowing orgasm, but she wants more, wants to feel it with him.

 

“I want you,” she breathes between kisses.  She grabs him by the cock and adds, “I want _to feel_ you _.”_

 

He loves when she talks this way to him, she knows it from the way his jaw drops, his adam apple trembles, and how he always swallows heavy.

 

“Are you sure?” He pants, but he's thrusting into her palm as she strokes him and she knows he won't take much convincing.

 

“I am _very sure.”_ She lays down on the bed and waits for him to slip out of his trousers himself.  

 

He crawls back over her and kisses her.  His fingers test her, just dip inside her for a few precious milliseconds. He must know how slick she is, how utterly soaked he's made her, but he still lets out a shaky exhale at the feel of her.

 

“Fuck, so wet, so warm…so perfect.”

 

He guides himself to her entrance, holding his cock in place before searching her eyes for permission.  

 

“Please, Robin.”

 

He bites his lip hard as he begins to enter her, but he still lets out this little whimper at the feeling.

 

He's thick, and it stretches her...quite a bit.  It's not… painful, not at all.  It's just… a lot.  It has her gasping and widening her legs, begging muscles inside her to loosen as he slowly buries himself to the hilt.  

 

He just stays there, unmoving, kissing her, waiting for her relax, for the tension to slip from her body.  She adjusts to the feeling of him, little by little, until she draws her own hips back, drawing him out, and then thrusting him back in.

 

It's… nice.  Different, but with each slow pass, she feels more and more confident.  

 

“Feels good,” she gasps, wrapping her hands around his neck and urging _him_ to take the lead.  He does, slowly at first, with a gentle care that has her heart swell up with love.  But she begs him to take her faster, as she chases the feeling of coming apart once more.

 

“Robin, please don't stop,” she begs when she feels his pace slow, and no, no no, it was so good, he can't slow down, not yet.

 

“S’been awhile,” he moans, “I haven't done this in months… used to, you know, quite a bit, but since I met you, I haven't… and i'm too worked up…” He slows to a stop and gives her a sheepish grin. “I need a moment, just a moment.”

 

She nods, pleased as punch over the effect she has on him, and thoroughly touched to hear what she had already hoped to be true.  He stopped frequenting the barmaids and village women the second he met her, despite her showing him no interest, despite how she pushed him away.

 

He fell for her hard, and right away.  

 

And the feeling is mutual.

 

They trade chaste kisses and she smiles devilishly as he bites his lip and closes his eyes, panting heavily and groaning when her hands grip his ass, or when she cannot resist kissing and licking that spot on his neck.  But despite these minor teasing touches, he seems to work himself down enough to resume.

 

He fuck her slowly at first, then gains speed as she asks for more, responds to every moan, shifting and adjusting in her until he finds an angle that has her feeling so good she could to climb the god damned walls.  It's sharp, punches of pleasure that buld and bloom until and burst inside of her, ripple out from her core and spread over her body.  

 

She cries out his name, whispering an _I love you_ as she rides the orgasm out, and then he is following her, jerking wildly within her, making promises of faith and undying love like the sappy gentleman he is.

 

He pulls out rapidly and comes on her stomach, before collapsing next to her.  She feels warm and satiated, and oddly sexy, here, with the evidence of what they did pooling at her belly button.  It should bother her but…. in this moment, she rather likes it.

 

They lay on the soft sheets, wrapped within each other, and she is so utterly happy.  She's grateful, so damn grateful, for whatever glorious being that saw fit to put this man in her path, making what should have been a sad, miserable existence into one full of adventure and love.

 

“You're stuck with me, now, I hope you know,” Robin whispers before sleep overwhelms them.  “I won't let go of you, not without a fight.”

 

.::.

 

It happens quicker than she would have expected.

 

She knows how it happened, of course.  She’s not ignorant to such things.  And she knows she and Robin aren't always as careful as they should be, but hell, they are both in love, desperately, and both want a family, so the prospect of a child is not entirely a bad one.

 

She might have preferred to be more settled, to have four walls and a home instead of being bandits of the forest, but when the village midwife confirms her pregnancy, she is nothing short of ecstatic.

 

Robin had been so worried about her when the symptoms flared up, the nausea, the vomiting and dizzy spells had him panicking and begging her to seek a doctor. So now, knowing that she is pregnant, not ill, has him thrilled beyond words.

 

“I suppose it's time for us to grow up,” he says, linking her hand in his.

 

They sell the last of the jewels she stole from the palace.  It's enough to purchase a small cottage in the woods from a recent widow who is off to spend the rest of her days with her daughters family.  

 

It's a simple cottage, rather bare, and somehow both cramped and drafty at the same time, but Regina would take their little two room home over the palace in an instant.

 

She worries though, that her adventurous outlaw is unhappy with his life.  So she asks him one night, simply asks, if he misses his life as a bandit.

 

“Not one bit,” He assures, kissing her hand.  “This is the life I’ve always hoped for.  A strong stubborn woman, a child on the way, a simple home, friends all around us.”

 

“You wished for a stubborn woman?” she laughs, “I highly doubt that.”

 

“Oh, but I did.  I like my women to be bossy,” he reveals, before going soft.  “I never wanted a wife who would obey and serve.  I always wanted someone who would challenge me, and fight with me and against me.  You’re everything I wanted.  I’d be bored to death without you.  But being with you each day is an adventure.  I don’t need anything else.”

 

She smiles, eyes filled with tears, and says something sarcastic back to him about his need for self punishment, but he still looks at her like she owns his heart, and she loves him for it.

 

Of course he has not had to give up everything in their new life.

 

His men still live in the forest around him, still frequent by to tell tales of thievery, or seek Robins advice on planning a heist, heists he invariably participates in.  He hasn't fully retired from that life, not at all. But now he has a day job, something honest, some pretense to keep his family safe.  He works as a carpenter, helps villagers construct and repair their homes, their wagons, their shops.

 

Regina trains with a healer like she's always wanted to.

 

Everything is delightfully ordinary until the child’s quickening.

 

That moment when she first feels her baby stir inside her, she feels a release of something gentle yet powerful, shooting out from her stomach up her spine.

 

It's the magic.  Her child has it, and he (the magic feels masculine, feels like earth and smells like musk) is already using it.

 

Whether it’s a blessing or a curse, she does not know.

 

But it’s a delightful feeling during the pregnancy, a soothing, sweet prickle that reminds her of what it is to come.

 

Labor, well, that is not a good feeling at all.  

 

She’s a healer, so she’s studied childbirth extensively.  She’s even assisted in some labors of her own.  But she’s still not properly prepared for the fear and panic surrounding the labor process.  

 

The pain is a gut wrenching, vomit inducing, back breaking kind that has her clenching teeth and digging fingernails into the bedding.  

 

But she’s used to pain, so she can bear that.

 

What she cannot bear is the terror of that comes after each contraction, when the faint pulse of her child’s magic disappears.

 

Oh, it’s terrible, with every push she holds her breath waiting for some sign that the life inside her is still going.

 

She screams to the midwife that something is wrong, and sure enough, the woman inspects her and nods.

 

“I can feel the cord,” she whispers, “around the neck.”

 

It’s hours of coaxing the child to twist out of the tangled mess she’s put him in, but it works, eventually.  Pushing comes easy then, without fear, when there’s only the pain to handle.

 

The child is beautiful.

 

 _He_ is beautiful.

 

“What should we name him?” Robin asks.  

 

“If… if it’s okay I’d like Henry,” Regina murmurs.  “It’s after my—”

 

Robin smiles  “Darling of course I know.  Your father.  And I couldn’t be happier with your choice.  Henry is a perfect name.  Perfect, just like him.  And his middle name?”

 

She swallows heavy, attempting to lose the lump in her throat, for this is a delicate issue.  

 

“I know what I would like….” she starts, trailing off into a panic.  “But it would be… inappropriate.”

 

“What?” he urges, “you’ve given birth to my child, Regina.  Anything you request of me, I’m going to at least give it consideration.”

 

She bites her lip.  “You know how much I love you,” she starts, and Robin scowls comically.

 

“Why do I think there’s a _but_ involved?” he asks, and then a follow-up with, “yes, of course I know you love me.”

 

“I wanted to honor the boy… the man who taught me about love.  The man who died because of me.”  She sees him flinch, and fears the worst — that he thinks she doesn’t love him as much as she loved her stable boy.  But that’s not it, not at all.  “I don’t….I don’t have any feelings for him anymore,” she assures, grabbing his hand.  And that flicker of uncertainty leaves his face, he nods, grabs her hand and kisses it.  “It’s just that,  My father suffered so much for me all his life as well, put up with so much abuse from Cora.  and I know it was because of me.  To protect _me_ in his own way, the best he could.  And Daniel, he did that  too.  Without either of the sacrifices they made… we wouldn’t have _this._ ”  She squeezes his hand, and looks down at their perfect child.  “I ask not because I loved him, I ask because I want to honor him… in some way.  He lost his life, and I thought I’d be miserable forever, but everything that he gave me led me to you.  He taught me to love, and trust, and believe in myself when no one else could.”

 

“Henry Daniel is a strong name,” Robin says, and there seems to be no hurt in his eyes, in his voice.  Sometimes she can’t believe her luck.  

 

“Henry Daniel Locksley,” she whispers.

 

And that’s when tears form in his eyes, shining bright before they spill onto his cheeks.  

 

It’s a blissful moment, a rare few minutes of pure joy.  She tries to memorize the feeling of it, the words he whispers in her ear, the feeling of his hot breath on her skin, drawing out goosebumps as he whispers words she tries to memorize forever, the steady crackling of the fire, the smell of burning wood, and the fresh, sweet scent of her precious newborn, sucking at her breast, the feeling of giving life and sustenance to the warm baby boy in her arms.

 

She tries to bottle up that memory, to save it for a rainy day.  It’s ridiculous to even think of bad times to come at a time like this, but Regina has known so much suffering in her life, that she cannot help but prepare for a return to the bad times.

.::.

 

For a few blissful weeks, Regina’s energy is entirely spent on caring for Henry.

 

There’s no sign of magic in Henry, now, oddly.  And good — she hasn’t told Robin (she’s terrified to tell him that his son may be a sorcerer, and that he inherited from Regina’s cruel family) and she’s not quite what magical things a newborn infant might do.

 

But as her strength improves, Regina starts feeling the gentle pulse of power through her again.

 

Magic.

 

All these years she had been told it was inside her, that if she were not so weak she would know how to use it.  And here it is, finally inside of her and ready to use.

 

She shouldn't use it, but it is right there…  One night, when the logs are wet and starting a fire is proves difficult, her fingers itch and throb, the magic threatening to burst through her.  She looks at Robin and tells him to stand back.  And then she stops fighting the power inside her.

 

Fire blooms in her hand like a tulip, white hot flames growing and spreading.

 

It is beautiful.

 

She concentrates and throws this little bud of fire into the hearth.  There home is warm and happy then.

 

Robin does not trust magic.  He fears the price of using it may ultimately hurt her.  There is that rumor, that magic always comes with a price.

 

But Regina doesn't know what the cost may be. She never learned the specifics of magic.  Cora would not want her to know about the negative consequences of it, after all.

 

And Cora _definitely_ did not want her knowing that magic can be tracked, that a person with magic can sense when a blood relative starts to use magic of their own.  

 

Perhaps if she had known, she could have prepared herself.

 

.::.

 

Regina, Robin and  Henry are on their way home from a trip to the town when Robin notices _her._

 

“Who is that?” Robin asks, pointing to the silhouette in the distance.

 

And somehow, Regina just _knows._

 

“Run!” Regina screams, throwing herself in front of Robin and the baby, between him and the silhouette that is now definitely not a random strange woman.

 

No, it’s her _mother._

 

“Regina, what is going on?  Please be calm, for Henry—”

 

But then he sees her too.  He must recognize her, from those wanted posters all those years ago.

 

“Run,” she says sternly, still trying to shield him from her mother with her little body.

 

“I won’t leave—”

 

“You need to do what is best for _Henry,”_ she reminds, but it is too late.

 

Cora poofs right next to her, looking every bit the disappointed mother.

 

Regina tries to conjure a fireball, something to defend herself, but her magic is new, and weak, and under the pressure and fear of the moment, the fire spurts and dies in her palm.

 

“Oh, my foolish girl,” Cora bemoans, flicking her wrists.  Robin freezes in place, and magic spurts out in vines that wrap around Regina's body and raise her into the air.  “this simply will not do.  I can fix a lot, my dear girl.  But with a child? I fear you may be irreparably damaged, insofar as royalty is concerned.”

 

“Do _not_ hurt my child!” Regina begs, “he's _my_ child.  You can't take him from me.”

 

“Named him after your miserable father did you?”  Cora murmurs. “But the child has magic, Regina, and your worthless father has none of that. I would have hoped for a better name.  And the father of your child?  Oh Regina, how far you've fallen.  A pity, I'm not sure I can let the unfortunate product of a common thief and my daughter stay on this earth.  We must erase these mistakes immediately.”

 

Regina gulps and shakes her head.  “No, mother, please, leave my son and Robin alive, and I'll do anything, I swear.”

 

Cora smiles like a cheshire cat, as if she’s fallen into her trap. “Such a good girl.  I was hoping you'd say that.  The vines carry her over and deposit her a mere arm's length from her mother.

 

Coras hand is raised in the air, while another holds a vial.  “This potion will erase the past mistakes, and give you a new life, where you have another chance to marry a real royal.  Drink it, and I will spare Robin and that little accident.  On my honor, may the gods strike me down  if I lie.  But if you don't accept… i'll break their necks with one flick of the wrist.

 

She guzzles the contents of the vial willingly.

 

The last thing she sees is Henry disappearing before her eyes, as she thinks that perhaps Cora had broken that oath after all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place a few weeks into the memory curse that Cora cast. Enjoy!

  
  


On paper, Robin Locksley has the perfect life.  He has an infant son, Roland, and the prettiest wife he could possibly hope for.  Marian.

 

She is kind, and caring, and birthed their son.  She is everything on a list of what is good and nice and perfect, and yet he doesn’t love her.

 

He did, oh how he did.  He has those memories of loving her desperately.  But somehow the memories don’t quite seem to fit with what he feels for the person in front of him.

 

And there is the problem of the child.  Roland doesn’t take to Marian the way other infants seem to.  And sometimes odd things happen when he is around that they can’t explain.

 

Once there was a blanket in the crib they cannot remember putting there.  

 

Sometimes he will touch Robin, and somehow it feels like he should be walking in a certain direction, like he should embark on some trip.

 

Marian speaks of it too, of strange feelings when she holds the babe, of unexplained events happening when the child is active.

 

Marian is loving and sweet and helpful, but she is tormented with nightmares.  

 

She confesses she feels no motherly connection to her own child, one quiet, ordinary night, kneeling before him, asking forgiveness.

 

Robin won’t hear it.  She has done nothing wrong.  It’s him, he thinks, that has destroyed their family by not loving her the way he should.

 

Yes, Marian is everything a perfect mother and wife should be, and he doesn’t love her, and it seems he’s accidentally taught his son not to love her either, and it’s awful.

 

Robin is at least hopeful she may feel the same about him, given how she cringes away from his touch when they are in bed together.  She does not want to sleep with him (he doesn’t want to either, but the guilt from not wanting her is almost as overwhelming as the uncomfortable awkwardness of embracing her and pretending), so they do not do so.  They live their lives, like strangers to one another.

 

What’s even worse is he’s absolutely  _ besotted  _ with King Richard’s new bride.

 

And he’s never even met her, not really.

 

What he knows of Regina is very little.   Apparently, she had thwarted a planned heist to steal a cart full of palace jewels.  He wasn’t there for the event (odd, he usually is involved in these robberies).  But he heard she was instrumental in stopping the heist, and in arresting the thieves who had plotted to take the King’s trinkets.

 

King Richard had been so grateful he  _ rewarded  _ her with marriage.  The event was three weeks ago.  Robin and his men used the event as an opportunity to sneak into the palace and steal what they could.  They had pilfered quite a bit, and he suspects most items haven’t even been noticed missing given the abundance of wealth in that palace.

 

But the most beautiful, most precious thing he had laid his eyes on in that palace was the bride herself.

 

He walked past her chambers as he was making off with the last of the goods, and was absolutely paralyzed by her beauty. 

 

He watched her, unnoticed, for just a few minutes.

 

She is so absolutely stunningly gorgeous.  But that night she looked so… lost.  So unhappy.  

 

But who wouldn’t want to marry the King?  He has convinced himself that he was seeing things, that perhaps her expression seemed sullen because she was worn out from the day’s festivities.  

 

But something told him the New Queen was different from royals past.  And then a week ago, he was proved right when he first caught sight of her, riding a horse through the woods alone.

 

She should  _ not  _ be riding around unguarded, no woman should be — but certainly not a  _ queen.   _

 

Her hood is drawn when she rides, and she wears common riding clothes, so perhaps many won’t notice.

 

But Robin, Robin will never forget what the queen looks like.

 

He does not interrupt those rides, he doesn’t even alert her to his presence.  He watches her and waits for her.  Watches the grace and skill she has on a horse, watches as she sprints on weaving forest trails, sees the smile that spreads across her face as she reaches top speed.

 

Today, as he watches her, he feels a prickle down his spine.

 

Something is not right.

 

Everyday she wanders just a bit further into the woods.  And now she’s in that patch of forest between his little cottage and the King’s path.  And it’s bursting with thieves.  He can only follow her silently and hope that today the many thieves of the forest will be resting on their laurels.

 

But sadly, today is  _ not  _ one of those days.  

 

Robin has just enough time to direct his horse into in the thick underbrush near the trail before the bandits step out together, arrows drawn at Regina.

 

“Halt!”  The man who must be their leader cries. “This is a robbery.”

 

Other men emerge from their hiding spots, also holding bows aimed at her.

 

Robin knows these men.  Common thieves from the village.  They don’t know the forest.  They don’t even know how to use a bow.  

 

There may be five of them, but they are no match for him.

 

Her horse whinnies and bucks, but stops as ordered.

 

“Do you know who I am?” Regina asks, and Robin cringes.  If she reveals herself it’s sure to cause a commotion.  They may try to kill her instead of just robbing her.

 

“Someone who has a bit of money, based on those garments.” The leader mutters.  To be true, she’s wearing common clothes, but the fabric is bright and clean, colors bold and beautiful against the forest backdrop.  “Now give us what's in your pockets and take off those jewels.”

 

“I am not wearing any jewels.” She says, holding up her hand and pointing to her bare neck.  “I don't  _ have  _ anything in pockets.  I was only out for a ride around the forest. But you're free to take my riding coat,” she grumbles, unbuttoning the coat.  “It'll fetch you a few coins.”

 

“A few coins, she says,” sharks the man to her right.  “Hardly worth much of anything. Still, I think there might be something  _ under  _ that coat that may be worth our trouble after all.”

 

He watches her expression turn into one of defiance.  She's preparing to fight them all, to her death, he realizes.  She will not let herself be taken that way.

 

“Get off your horse, you harlot,” one of the thieves bellows, “Or we’ll slice open your throat.”

 

She sneers and then simply says, “Well, get on with it then.”

 

Robin’s not sure if she’s calling their bluff or looking for death, but he doesn’t want to wait to find out.  He starts firing arrows at them, in quick, rapid succession.  He’s forced to aim one rather close to the queen so he can hit the man who is very nearly about to pull her from her horse.  The arrow hits the man, but not before it scares the queen, making her flinch.

 

Robin sets his horse to gallop then, spurs him to sprint at top speed into the middle of the confused and wounded men.  And then he slaps the back of the queen’s horse and mutters, “Follow me, I know a way out of here.”

 

He worries she won’t follow him.  She has no reason to trust him, after all.  

 

But he hears the horse galloping behind him and breathes a sigh of relief.  

 

He takes her on a winding, weaving path through the forest.  He knows her skill on the horse, and yet he’s rather impressed with her ability to keep up with him.  

 

The same cannot be said of the thieves, who are left behind before they truly set foot anywhere. 

 

They ride into a clearing, a little meadow in the midst of the forest.  He stops his horse now and smiles back at her. “We are safe here,” he assures.  “Why don't you give yourself and your horse a rest?”

 

She looks so… confused maybe  Unhappy, definitely.  She just dismounts her horse and ties him up next to his.  Even the way she dismounts a horse is elegant and regal.  She was born to be a queen, he thinks.  

 

“Robin of Locksley,” he offers his hand to her, but she dismisses it as if it were a pile of manure.

 

“Don’t touch me,” she orders, staring at his hand til he puts it away.

 

The slight rejection stings more than he thought it would.  

 

“That arrow nearly took off my head,” she grumbles.  

 

That little sting of rejection blooms into a full blown painful ache, and he can only reply bitterly, “Where I'm from, a simple thank you would suffice.” 

 

She rolls her eyes.  “I could have handled it.”

 

“Forgive me for saving you,  _ Your Majesty.” _ Robin replies through clenched teeth.  

 

Her eyes go wide, and all the blood rushes from her face, as if she’s really that surprised that she is so recognizable.  

 

“What-what are you planning on doing to me?” she asks.  Her voice isn’t fearful, it’s… curious.  

 

“Nothing,” Robin grumbles.  “I merely don't want you to suffer and die.  I value all human life.  I wish you could do the same.”

 

“I respect human life!” she argues.

 

He’s not sure where this anger comes from (it comes from the way she looks at him, how she grimaces at his appearance, how he’s saved her and she still hates him when he feels something so strong for her that it hurts) but he cannot resist pointing out that she’s said an untruth.  “Really, your majesty?  You've authorized hunts for the bandits of these woods.  Offered rewards for us, dead or alive.  All because we take some of your precious jewels and give them to the members of your kingdom that are starving.”

 

“Have I?” Regina asks, “Do you really think the Queen has any role in how her country is run?  They may use my name but trust me, I have no real power in this realm.  Make no mistake though, I don’t mind my name being used to apprehend violent thieves like the ones we just encountered.  And spare me the bullshit.  I know those pilfered jewels you steal goes to buying pints and women at the local ale house.”

 

The implication that he is a dishonorable man infuriates him, and before he can think he responds with an angry, “Oh I’ve no need to buy my women. Who do you think I am,  _ the King? _ ”

 

He sees a flash of pain cross her face, and then her face grows defiant, her jaw locks, and she scowls out a, “He did  _ not _ buy me!” 

 

But he’s still so angry, and cannot resist poking holes in that little statement  “Tell me, my queen, what wonderful qualities made you fall in love our fearless leader?  Besides his considerable wealth?”

 

He can tell he’s gone too far the second he says it.

 

Her face falls, and that angry little scowl melts into a shameful pout.

 

Shit.

 

“Your majesty,” he says, reaching out to comfort her, “I apologize, my words were unkind, I had no right—”

 

“You are wrong, though,” she bites, “I can't remember a single reason why I accepted his proposal, but I doubt it was for his wealth, since all it's brought me is a fancy prison where I spend my life feeling like I'm slowly dying!”

 

She shoves him and stalks away.  Her eyes are full of tears that he knows he is not supposed to see.  And suddenly all his anger is full of terrible remorse.  Remorse and guilt.  She’s tortured, the Queen, and unhappy.  And he knew that, he could sense it the day he saw her in her bedchambers.  And hell, why would a happy Queen ride into the common woods instead of staying on the palace grounds, where she is safe?

 

He knew she was hurting, and he pushed her to more misery.

 

What’s worth is they both know she didn’t have a choice.

 

“I am truly sorry,” Robin mutters. 

 

“Why are  _ you  _ sorry?” She asks, still not turning to face him.  “Apparently I've been trying to kill you.”

 

“Mmm, but quite unsuccessfully at that,” he teases, “I'm sorry because I know it is treason to refuse a King's proposal.  And perhaps that was the reason you accepted, yeah?  Not wanting to be executed and all?”  He tries to keep things light, is relieved to hear a slight sound of laughter coming out of her.  “And you did thwart a plot to steal a carriage full of jewels, but perhaps what you wanted was a reward, not a proposal, yeah?”

 

“I don't know what I wanted,” Regina admits quietly.  “I can remember everything that happened, but the feeling, my reasons for what I did… everything is blank.  I know I must sound crazy.”

 

But it doesn’t sound crazy.  It sounds so… familiar.  He’s never felt more connected to anyone and they’ve only just met.

 

“Not crazy,” he assures, a sad smile on his face.  “I'm sure these things happen. Relationships can be...complicated.”

 

“And what do you know about relationships?,” she mutters under her breath.

 

“My wife would tell you not much,” he laughs.

 

Her face falls, she looks away.  He does not know what it means, that flicker of sorrow in her eyes, but he hopes he can find out one day. 

 

He doesn’t want to let her go, or pet the conversation end in that note, so he presses on.

 

“I see you riding every day, you know,” he presses, “I’ve always known it was you, your majesty.”

 

She shakes her head, “Please.  I prefer ‘Regina’.”

 

His heart knocks loud and hard in his chest.  He hopes she cannot hear, hopes she does not know how absolutely taken he is with her.  “Alright, _ Regina _ .  I’ve always known it was you.  But you have to be careful, riding outside palace grounds.  That area you just rode through is littered with thieves.  We got lucky, those were unskilled village drunks.  But there will be more skilled men there one day, and I do not want any harm to come of you.”

 

“I won’t stay up in that prison,” she says simply, and then she’s confessing, “Riding is the only time I feel alive.  I can’t give it up.  If something happens,” she shrugs, as if an assault on her life were utterly meaningless, “so be it.”

 

Robin yet again contemplated the fact her life is meaningless to her, and wonders if she isn’t at risk for ending her own life. 

 

He can’t bear the thought.  The need to protect her is strong, there’s some inexplicable pull he just can’t explain. 

 

“If you insist on riding on your own, allow me to be your escort.” he proposes.  “You can ride free and I’ll only give you my advice on where to go.  And my protection, my bow, should you need it.”

  
  


She doesn’t say no right away, and it shocks him.  There’s seconds of silence where she seems to be looking him over, analyzing whether she can trust him or not.

 

“Alright,” she gives.

 

“Meet me at the forest's edge when the mid-day church bells ring.  But don’t get in my way.”

 

“I wouldn’t dream of it,  _ milady.” _ He teases, soaring her the title he knows she hates.

 

It makes her smile ear to ear, and nothing is more beautiful.

 

He watches as she rides off, back to the beautiful palace she calls a prison.

 

.:R&R:.

 

Regina tries to fight it, but she is to admit she likes her new riding companion.

 

Quite a bit.

 

Some days they don’t speak a word.  Other days, she asks to pull off in the meadow and let the horses rest.  And those days Robin lays a blanket out on the grass, without being asked.  He waits for her to sit and join her, offering her dried meat and stale bread, sometimes a bit of goat cheese.  But there’s meade and good company and she much prefers this meal over any ten course meal back at the palace. 

 

It’s a nice little picnic, one he must prepare every day, just in case.  She only lets herself do this, stop and talk and eat with him, once or twice a week.

 

Well, three times  _ this  _ week, because it’s been a hard week, and she craves his attention like a drug.  

 

She likes him.   

 

_ Really _ likes him, in a way she doesn't remember ever feeling before for anyone.  They ride together, everyday, and on those days when they share snacks under a large oak tree that rests in the middle of a small clearing, they trade stories.  Robin tells her of his son, and oh, he's a good father. Very proud and totally enamored with the infant.

 

But Regina is totally enamored with  _ him.   _ She finds a way to sit closer to him everyday, until their hips are touching as they sit under that oak.  One day he starts playing with her hand.  He picks it up, holds it in one hand while he rubs light, feather touches on the back of her hand.  And then he turns it over, gives the same treatment to her palm.  

 

Her body is gooseflesh, and she shivers visibly at some of the strokes, can hardly keep up with the conversation, but she tries.  He smiles at her knowingly as her fingers curl towards his hand, as she scratches light touches against his palm.  His eyes fall shut when she scratches up the back of his hand from knuckle to wrist, but he says nothing.  They spend an hour or so talking, touching each other’s hands, which things zing and sizzle inside her. 

 

When she gets home she falls into bed and touches herself  _ more,  _ in a way that is absolutely forbidden.  It feels so good, imagining his hands wandering to where she craves him, thinking of them connecting intimately in a way she has only connected with the King.

 

She’s falling for him, there’s no mistaking it.  And it’s painful, because she finally feels alive again, and it’s only because of a man she cannot be with.

 

The next time she suggests they give their horses a rest she’s determined to make this relationship platonic (it  _ is  _ platonic, they have never done anything wrong, she just needs to stop  _ imagining  _ it as more).

 

So they are on that silly blanket, under a tree, sharing an apple and bits of goat cheese, and she steers the conversation into a territory they often ignore.

 

“How is your wife?” Regina asks nervously.  “I hear about your life but not much about her.”

 

She asks because it seems polite and because she needs a reminder that what she feels for him is wrong.  He never seems comfortable talking about her, beyond the fact that she bore his son.

 

“Marian is… well, she struggles these days as is to be expected being a new mother,” Robin grimaces.  “But she’s a lovely woman, beautiful and kind.  You’d like her.”

 

She nods, and adds, “I’m sure she’s a wonderful mother.” The words stick in her throat, a lump forming there, and tears are starting to sting behind her eyes.  Talking of Marian being a mother hurts so much and she’s not sure why.

 

“She has all the qualities of a wonderful mother.  But, things are hard.  I think the birth may have proved traumatic for her.  Because now.. Marian has trouble connecting to him,” He’s not looking at Regina, instead is only playing with blades of grass.  “Marian… like I said, she's had trouble with quite a bit since Roland came into the world.”

 

“It will pass,” Regina offers.  She's no idea if it will, but his child is only months old, and she imagines a lot of women experience trouble during that time.

 

“I hope so,” he sighs.  “We have my friends helping….” he drifts off.  “Sometimes she says the baby isn't hers.  She pushes him away, and runs off…”

 

Well that's… unexpected.  She's heard of women feeling sad and lonely, crying for no reason.  But denying a child is their own? She has not heard of that. 

 

“I'm sorry.  It must be so hard to watch this happen to the woman you love.”

 

It's very hard for  _ her,  _ to speak with him about his wife.  Very hard to defend her and be protective of her, because, you see, she knows it now, just talking about his wife, she’s sure of it.

 

Regina doesn’t just  _ like  _ him.  She is in love with him.

 

She's totally in love with him, and it's pathetic and tragic but nonetheless true.

 

“I think… Marian and I married because I was a cad.  I was irresponsible, and she became pregnant.  We married after the pregnancy.  And, I don’t think either of us are in love.” He looks at her with a deep sadness in his eyes.  “I thought we had something, I remember us being quite different but these days, I'm not so sure.  When I look at my son, I feel such a pure love.  With her, I only feel… confused.  I do not think she loves me, either.”

 

“Of course she loves you,” Regina breaths, looking down.  “who wouldn’t?”

 

Her cheeks heat the second she says it, ears burning with the small acknowledgement of how she feels.

 

She fills the silence quickly with a “I mean, you sound like such a  wonderful father and you are such a devoted husband and—“

 

“I’m not that devoted,” Robin says pointedly, looking at her sincerely.  “If I was I wouldn’t…”

 

He was about to say something serious, something she might be able to predict, but he must lose his nerve, because he trails off into nothing, still staring at her in a way that somehow both sets her on fire and sends a cold chill down her back.

 

So it’s both of them, then.

 

She should let him know then, that they are just as doomed as he may fear.  This can never be.

 

“Tell me something about your life,” he asks, “something I don’t know yet.  I want to know about you,too.”

 

“I do not love King Richard.  But I am expected to produce a male heir,” Regina whispers back.  It's an odd thing to bring up, but...she has to get this out.  He has to know she’s no maiden.  The rumors aren’t true.  The King is sadly, not impotent.  “I have to lay with him whenever the fertile time is.  It's my duty as queen.”

 

“But you don't want to,” Robin surmises. Or maybe hopes.  Maybe he hopes she wants him the same way she hopes he wants her.  Maybe. 

 

“I do not,” Regina admits.  “But I chose this life.  And it's a life of luxury. So don't pity me.”

 

“I do not  _ pity  _ you,” Robin says softly.   “And to be clear that...doesn’t change how anyone of honor would feel about you.  We all make choices that have negative consequences.  Such is life.” He pauses and quickly adds, “Though to be clear I don't regret a thing when it comes to Marian.  Things may not be… good between us, but I could never regret any decision that gave me my perfect son.”

 

“I'd like to meet him one day.” The words come out quickly, and it's only then that she realizes how wrong they are.  

 

“I’d  _ love  _ you to meet him,” Robin says, smiling brightly.  “I’ve been meaning to introduce you to him, but I figured you wouldn’t want to—”

 

“You speak so much of him it’s as if I know him,” she chirps, “I’d be grateful.  Soon, you’ll introduce me?”

 

“How’s tomorrow?” Robin asks, reaching to grab her hand and give it a squeeze.

 

And why is her stomach full of butterflies, and why is her heart beating so hard? It’s not a proposition, it’s only an invitation to see his child.  But she wants to meet him so badly she can’t even describe the feeling.

 

“Tomorrow would be lovely,” she settles on.  

 

She can hardly sleep that night, excited and nervous at the prospect of meeting a commoner’s family.

 

It makes no sense.

 

.::.

 

When the church bells ring the next morning, Robin isn’t there to meet her.

 

It’s the first time he hasn’t been there, right on time, since they agreed to this meeting.  

 

Her blood runs cold.

 

Something tells her that he’s in danger.  Which is silly, of course.  It’s much more likely that he had second thoughts about sharing his family with her.  He’s married, and happy, and convorting with a queen could only get Robin into trouble.  He’d be killed, surely, just by the fact that he spends time alone with the King’s property.

 

She’s toxic.  He was smart to run from her.

 

But her loneliness will be soul-crushing now that she knows what true companionship is.  

 

Why did she have to ask to see her son?

 

She's feeling quite angry at herself for ruining the best thing in her life, when another man approaches.

 

“Regina!”

 

It's her name that has her stopping.  Only  _ he  _ calls her that.  She is only known by her title, not her name.  Not anymore.

 

She turns to him and watches as he gallops towards her, crying out, “Robin is at his home, with his child.  The mother ran off.”

 

Oh no.  

 

“Ran off?”

 

“Marian has been gone a full night.  We've received word that she's somewhere safe and that she does not wish to return.  She keeps saying that the child is not hers.  Robin is caring for the child, best he can. He could use… a friend.  And you two are that, are you not?  I thought, if you wanted…”

 

She should turn away from all of this, should, but can't, because she's nodding letting him lead her to his cottage.

 

It looks so familiar, this cottage.  She cannot shake the eerie feeling that this is  _ home.  _  But it's not, it's just her dream home.  Something she would chose for herself, something she covets.

 

She ties up her horse and looks to her riding partner (“John”, he's called himself) to find he is not dismounting.

 

“You go in alone,” he says softly.  “I have other matters to attend to.”

 

But that little knowing smile he gives her makes her wonder if he really has anything better to do.

 

She doesn’t dwell on that too long, however, because she sees Robin, walking back from a trail in the woods.

 

“Regina!” He calls her over.  “Thank god John caught you.  Roland is with the wet nurse.  I just needed to clear my head.”

 

She nods. “John told me about Marian.” He already knows this, still it feels necessary to say.

 

Robin shakes his head. “She's run before.  Marian has.  But this time she went out all night and left a note.  I just...I don't believe this.”

 

Robin sits in a fallen log, putting his head in his hands.  Regina sits down next to him. He looks miserable.  

 

Regina suddenly feels a hate for Marian she knows she has no right to feel.  But she cannot help it. Marian doesn't properly appreciate the man she has in front of her.  A man that is kind, and good with children, who risks his lives for others and sticks to his stupid principles.  A man with deep blue eyes and a bright kind smile…

 

She needs to stop.  He's hurting.  So she puts a hand on his back and rubs it tenderly.  “I'm so sorry, Robin.”

 

“I just don't understand how she could leave her own child,” he sighs.  “And she's not a bad person, Regina.  Not at all.  She's a lovely woman.  Strong and brave, beautiful… this thing with Roland just makes no sense.”

 

“It's hard to work these things out,” Regin soothes, her hand still rubbing over the strong muscles of his back. She will do this.  She will comfort this man, she will listen to how perfect his wife is.  Because maybe he doesn’t  love Marian, but he still felt strongly about her, right?

 

Certainly more than he feels for Regina.

 

“Thank you for coming, Regina.  These past few weeks with you… you don't know what they've meant.  This has been so hard, and you made it so much better.”

 

Her heart soars, but she swallows the emotions down.

 

“I was drowning before I met you,” Regina says slowly, “Didn’t care if I lived or died.  These last few weeks have saved  _ me.”  _ She watches as his eyes light up, as a thing smile spreads across his face, as he leans into her more.  He seems so damn grateful.  _  “  _ So I'll be here for you.  As best I can… sneaking out of the palace isn't always easy for more than a few hours.  But—”

 

“I know it's not easy.  And please know how much I appreciate it, but you shouldn't feel obligated.”

 

“I don't feel obligated, Robin.” She takes his hand in her free one while she continues to trace circles on his back. “I've enjoyed every second I've spent with you.  I’ll be glad to spend even more time.” They share a look, then, and a moment.  Words she shouldn't say threaten to bubble to the surface, so she shifts the conversation back to Marian.  “Have faith.  Marian has not been gone long.  She may come back to you.”

 

He only shakes his head.  “No, no she won't, and I wouldn't want that anyway.  I feel for Roland, I do, he deserves to know his mother.  But...we didn't work, Marian and I.  We were fine as roommates, got along splendidly.  The end of our relationship was inevitable.”

 

He looks up at her and smiles shyly.  “Moreso since I fell in love with someone else.”

 

Her cheeks heat.  The way he speaks, it sounds like— but it couldn't be— 

 

But his hands are in her hair, and he's drawing her close.

 

She should pull away, but she can't.  

 

She lets it happen.  

 

She lets their lips touch.   What's the harm in experiencing one  _ good  _ kiss for once in her life?

 

.::.

 

She lets him kiss her, and he almost can’t breathe from every electric moment leading up to the press of their lips.

 

And then there's that burst of lightning, a clap of roaring thunder as a tidal wave rolls over the land, shaking everything but moving nothing at the same time.

 

And he is confused, but only for a second.

 

It all comes back.

 

Her mother's memory curse had been carefully crafted, protected against true love’s kiss as best she could, but Robin has spent the past month with a newborn who has been trying to send him every hint needed to break the curse.  

 

And when he kisses her, it finally all makes sense.

 

He knows that now.

 

“Regina!” His eyes fill with tears as he pulls her in close.  “Can you remember, too?”

 

She looks confused, surprised.  “I… I don’t know what is going on.  You feel so…” her eyes wet, she cries so prettily, god she’s so fucking beautiful and so fucking  _ his _ . “why do you feel so  _ familiar?” _

 

“I…”

 

Robin bites his lip.

 

The child.  She just needs to see their child.

 

“Do you trust me?”

 

“I do,” she whispers. “I’m not sure why, but… yes, I trust you.”

 

Robin smiles and kisses her forehead as he used to.  She gasps lightly at that, the utter confusion on her face is adorable.

 

“I’ll be right back,” he says, “just stay here.”

 

He grabs Roland — no  _ Henry,  _ he grabs  _ Henry  _ from the wet nurse, wraps him up tight and tries to keep from running back to Regina.

 

When Regina sees him approaching, she’s already standing up, already walking towards him.

 

.::.

 

Something strange is happening.

 

She feels it, tastes it in the air the moment they kiss.  it’s something familiar, and at the same time, nothing she can remember experiencing.

 

It’s the taste of a sweet smoke though there’s no evidence of any smoke in the air.  Something sparks and billows around her.

 

It feels like  _ magic.   _ But she has never known magic.

 

Or has she, and she just can’t remember?

 

Robin looks at her as if she holds his whole world.  He loves her, she knows that.

 

She loves him too, so she supposes she can’t fault him for that.

 

Something makes her feel so uneasy.  And she’s inexplicably drawn to that little cottage where Robin lives, something is calling to her, some force begging her to step inside.

 

She won’t.  She won’t walk inside a married woman’s home.  Especially after kissing that woman’s husband.

 

Yes, she ran off and yes, they aren’t in love, but Regina is respectful of boundaries, and she won’t take over a woman’s space.

 

Robin is urging her to wait there, because he needs to show her something.  He looks wild eyed and excited, so damn happy it catches her off guard.  And she rushes after him, anticipation and fear coursing through her veins.

 

“Regina, I’d like you to meet Henry.”

 

Robin is tilting the little bundle towards her and she feels drawn to the infant like a magnet.  But something gives her pause.

 

“Henry?” She asks, “but you told me his name was—“

 

Henry makes a little sound, a little “ _ Gee!”  _ that for some reason sounds so.  And she can’t resist anymore, she looks down at him, separated holding a little bundle in his hands.

 

He’s swaddled tight, bundles of flannel wrapped around him to ward off the cold.  Regina reaches a shaky hand to move the cloth covering his face, and then….

 

Her world spins on its axis.

 

Henry.  

 

_ Hers.   _ She recognizes her child the second she locks eyes with him.  Those rich deep brown beautiful eyes she’s looked into for so many hours.

 

Memory come flooding back, and she feels like she’s stepped inside a centrifuge, everything swirling and separating, the cursed memories from the real ones.

 

And then it stops, she feels righted in her place, righted looking at her son.  

 

“Henry,” she chokes out, “oh, gods, Henry, my baby…”

 

She leans down to kiss his forehead from his spot in his father’s arms.  

 

Light bursts then, it’s bright and powerful and spreads like a sonic boom over the land.

 

“Robin…” she breaths, looking back at him with pure love. “I missed you, even when I couldn’t remember you, I missed you so much.”

 

“I missed you too, my love. So much, all the time.”

 

It’s awkward, holding the baby, but they still manage a hug, and he kisses her, whispering an  _ I love you, I missed you  _ into her neck.

 

“I love you too,” she returns, “even under the curse, I loved you.”

 

He chuckles and nods. Our love must be strong.  From the second I laid eyes on you, even without my memories, you’re all I wanted.”

 

“From the second I laid eyes on you,” she repeats, “despite trying to deny it….  I just felt pulled to you, I can’t explain it.  I think Henry was pulling me towards you both.”

 

And then she remembers something about their child.  He has magic. And Cora knew that and would have tried to prevent him from using it.  Would have tried to prevent him pulling her towards him, like a magnet.  All those times she was on her horse galloping wherever she pleased, everyday she was venturing closer and closer to this cottage.  Henry pulled her.

 

And what sort of magic did she try to prevent that?  What what lasting effect must he now suffer?

 

“Henry, he’s…” her eyes are blinded with tears “Is he, is he…” He’s safe and alive and there and yet she worries, fears, for scars she can’t see under the surface, wounds her mother gave him that will never heal.

 

“He’s perfect,” Robin assures.  “Just perfect.  Just look.”

 

She does, she fawns over their child, tears mixing with laughter.  Henry doesn’t cry, just giggles and coos.  He’s so settled, so happy.  Ten fingers, ten toes, well-fed, well-rested.  No marks on him.

 

He’s okay, and she can breathe a bit. 

 

Robin smiles, and wraps an arm around her.  “Come inside.  Come home, my love.”

 

She lets him lead her back to their cottage, her true home.

 

Robin places Henry in the crib, while Regina stokes the fire and watches them together.  It is bliss, pure bliss.  

 

Her heart might explode.

 

Robin approaches her almost nervously, weaves a hand through her hair and whispers,“Wanted to do this since the first time I saw you in the castle,” he says, dipping down to press a kiss into her neck.

 

“You saw me in that castle?” she asks, and Robin only chuckles.  

 

“Weddings are fine distractions.  It’s a wonderful opportunity for a gang of thieves to take what they can,” he reminds (because she knows, knows that was how they operated, before this memory curse took them.  “I saw you that day, on your wedding day.  You looked so beautiful, and so sad, I…”  His voice fades off as he must realize what she does.  

 

Her cheeks heat, thinking of her wedding night.  And she wants to curse her mother to death, because she took something precious from her.

 

“I was dreading that night.  I didn’t want to, Robin, but—”

 

His arms wrap around her tightly, holding her close to his chest.  It feels nice and safe, it’s comforting.  “Shh, I know.  It’s nothing, my love.  We don’t ever have to speak of it again, if you don’t want to.”

 

“Did you?” she croaks, “With Marian, did you—?”

 

Robin grimaces, guilt washing over his face, she thinks the answer is yes, but he shakes his head.  “She did not wish to, and neither did I.  So we did not.  I’m sorry you have to suffer this, while I’ve been lucky.”

 

“I’m glad,” Regina  decides, “for you and for Marian.  But…” She shakes her head, tears form.  “You were the only man I had ever  _ been  _ with.  And I wanted you to be the only one  _ forever.   _ But she took that from me, Robin, she took that from  _ us.  _ I am so, so sorry, I didn’t know, I let him take me, Robin, I let him, I—”

 

He  squeezes her body tightly. “No apologies my love.  I won’t hear of it. I’m the one who should be sorry.  I should have protected you, even under the curse, I should have seen how miserable you were and rescued you then.  I’m the sorry one.  You’re innocent.”

 

“I’m no innocent,” she gripes, adding, “I just feel...different.”

 

“You’re the same to me,” Robin assures.  “Every bit of you, I swear. I don’t care, Regina.  I don’t care if a thousand men had you, I’d want you still the same, love you just as much.  I only care that it hurts  _ you. _  It wasn’t your choice, and that kills me.  But you shouldn’t feel guilty.”

 

He’s perfect.  Absolutely perfect.  She feels stained and soiled, and he’s telling her she’s fresh and clean to him.  And it helps.  God, how it helps.  She has plenty of experience with seeing herself through Robin’s eyes, and maybe she can’t see herself as blameless quite yet, but he does.  And that is everything.

 

“There is a small consolation.” Robin says, pressing a kiss to her brow.  “She harmed you plenty, and meant to hard me, I’m sure.  But your mother, witch that she is, kept her word after all.  Henry was never harmed.”

 

It’s not the consolation he wants it to be.  It reminds her of a problem.  

 

Not yet,” Regina mutters, biting her lip.  “Not yet, Robin, but she  _ will.   _ Because this is her curse.  And she will know that it’s been broken.  And she’s going to come for us.”

 

She looks up at him trying to keep the fear out of her voice.  “Henry has magic.  And he’s… connected to me.  She’s going to try to separate us again, Robin.  And she’ll do better this time.”

 

“She won’t separate us again,” Robin says firmly.  “I don’t care what dark magic she has in store for us.  We have one another.  I won’t let you go ever again. I promise.”

 

She shuts her eyes right, and chases away that voice of dread that assures her Robin can’t make such promises.

 

Cora is coming for them.  


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for #OQHappyEndingWeek
> 
> This is the conclusion! I will keep this an open verse and will still accept prompts.

They leave their cottage immediately, to keep safe, to try to hide from Cora. Ridiculous — she will find them anywhere they go. But maybe, temporarily, it will work.

Robin believes it will work for some time. A simple relocation.

Ridiculous.

He doesn’t know Regina’s mother as well as she does. He’s had one frightening encounter, and years without ever seeing her.

That is why he’s so confident they will defeat her or escape her. She senses impending dread, her heart races as she worries Cora may appear at any time.

But Robin is kisses her tenderly and whisks her away on a half nights ride to a little known inn on the forest’s edge. It is late when she gets there, far too late for Henry to be up, but she gets as many cuddles and smiles as she can before he falls asleep on her shoulder.

She finally parts from Henry, laying him down in the cradle the innkeepers happened to have on hand, settling him in in the small, windowless room off their little room.

Robin can barely contain his affection for her — not sexual, not exactly, but his arms are around her, tight, as he sways and hugs and hugs.

“I got you back,” he murmurs into her hair. “I didn’t even know you existed, and I still missed you so much. I’m so happy I get to hold you again. Even when I didn’t know you existed… I just was missing something. And it was you.”

Those high crashing waves of anxiety that have been slapping across her chest quell down to a low, gentle current.

“I love you,” she whispers back. “I missed you so, so much.”

She kisses him hungrily, passionately, because she missed him, because she doesn’t know when tomorrow will be, because she belonged to the king before, and she can’t let that be the last person she kissed, the last she touched.

If it all ends tomorrow, she needs to be with her husband.

She tugs at his shirt, urges it off, and Robin moans in agreement, helps her take it off, and then he is unbuttoning her dress in a wild frenzy of nimble fingers. They gasp for air as they strip one another, as her dress and skirts pool at her feet, as she unlaces his trousers and pushes them down.

They haven’t seen each other for what feels like ages, and there are false memories, a false life without him, swirling in her mind, making her want to reconnect, desperately so.

“Perfect,” Robin breathes, taking in her naked form.

She knows her body is desirable, now more than ever, now that she’s been queen twice, has heard the whispers of villagers theorize why an old king would marry the likes of her.

But it’s still particularly nice to feel Robin appreciate her the way he does, his eyes swiping over her body with that lustful gaze.

She needs to feel wanted, needs to erase the past.

She pulls him down to the bed with her, and she can hear the surprise in his moan, the way his lips part from hers to mutter a little drawn out _God…._

She needs this, now, it might not make sense, but she’s been violated, and she feels dirty and _this,_ this, sex of her choice, with someone she loves more than she ever thought possible, this cleansing.

She’s so desperate for him to be inside her that she reaches for him after a few moments of kissing. When she grasps at his erection he curses, thrusts into her palm, and moans her name.

She’s clenching at the thought of him inside her, impatient, needy. She rolls onto her back, welcoming him on top of her.

He’s all hot and muscular on top of her, smooth and lightly sweaty.

Her hand is still on his cock, so she shifts to reposition him to push him inside.

And that’s when he curses, and moans.

“Regina,” he pants, shifting so he is lying next to her. “Regina, love, is something the matter?”

“No,” Regina insists, her voice wavering. “I want you, badly, I—”

“I do too,” He assures, cupping her cheek. “Love, I do, I really….I do. But I know you, and this is not usually your pace.”

She groans, embarrassed and caught, turns away from him with a little growl. “So you don’t wish to be with me because I am _too eager?”_

“I love when you are eager,” Robin assures, rubbing her back. “adore it. Regina..." 

She doesn't turn, the rejection stings more than she thought it would.  She knows he loves her, but those past memories burn, so she cannot meet his eyes.

"I just want to be good to you, to give you time."

"Maybe it's _you_ who needs the time," Regina grouses, still facing the opposite direction, staring at the stone walls.

Robin laughs, a full, hearty chuckle, before kissing her naked back.  The touch feels so good she lets him do it, lets him draw his lips and tongue down her spine, finding sensitive spots to tease and touch.  "Trust me, I do not need the time.   I have my memories back, of what it feels like to be with you and I'm painfully aware how long it's been.  I remember the way it feels, every moment. But I am trying to be a gentleman, even though all I want is to sink my cock into—”

His words send a warm current of electricity through her belly, and a renewed sense of pride.  So she spins around,  kissing him, hard and wrapping her arms and legs around him, rubbing into him. God they fit together so well, in nearly every position.

He breaks the kiss, again, the bastard, just looks at her with those deep blue eyes. He looks so conflicted as he struggles to find words.

“We don’t have to discuss what happened to you under the curse,” he pants, and if they don’t, why bring it up? “But you went through something awful, Regina, and this time, more than any time in my life, I want you to be _sure._ I want you with me. I don’t want our first time back together being about anything but our love.  I don't want any painful moments of the past coming to bed with us.  I just want it to be me and you.”

She huffs out a bit of air, frustrated but so damn touched, so impressed that after time away, after a mind full of new memories battling for dominance over the old, he still knows her so well.

“I need to be with you again,” she says out of a whisper. “I want to remember what it’s like to feel good. I need you to not deny me this. I have memories that…” she shakes her head, she will not cry. “I don’t like knowing that my most recent sexual encounter was with someone I didn’t even know, let alone love.  I want to be with you because I love you, and I want you.”

“If you’re hurting—” he starts, but she shakes her head. He’s not getting out of this.

“Oh of course I am.  I’m hurting.” Her voice cracks, “I’m going to _be_ hurting, for some time. But being with you makes everything hurt less, I swear. Robin, I just want to feel close to you again, please, I want to know that you still want me, I want to feel it, we’ve been through so much, it’s been so awful…”

She knows he won’t find tears sexy, so she fights them, but it’s another battle she loses. She shuts her eyes in frustration, only to feel his lips on her tear stained cheeks, his hands in her hair.

“It’s okay, love. I want you, in every way. As much as I had the day I met you. I told you long ago I didn’t mind how many men you had been in the past, and that’s still the case today. But you’ve been violated—”

“I slept with him by choice,” she reminds, because there was never any force involved, she went willingly. In her cursed memories, the ones Cora planted, she even rather enjoyed it, and those residual memories sting most of all, even though she knows they aren’t real.

“You were cursed,” he reminds. “You wouldn’t have slept with him by choice, not if you remembered me.” And he didn’t mean it that way, but it sounds boastful, has him chuckling, and beginning to amend. “I mean, not that—”

“Oh definitely not,” she whispers, running a hand down his torso. She loves his body, always has, and it’s very much the body she remembers, the body she’s craved, the person she chose and loves.

“Robin,” she whispers, “be with me, please.”

There’s heat and passion, but it's slow and tender, as they rediscover one another, reclaim memories Cora sought to erase, their bodies coming together again and again, falling into an easy rhythm as if no time had passed between them.

It’s healing, cleansing, even, and she finds that when she’s in his arms, fully taken care of, the nightmare that was her past cursed life fades into obscurity.

She sleeps that night, despite the fear of her mother’s return, despite the conflict of fake and real memories swirling in her mind. No matter what is coming, not matter what happened in the past, she has him, has her family together for now, and for now, it’s enough.

.::.

Come morning they are unable to resist investigating the damage of the realm after Cora’s curse.

 

There is surprisingly little evidence, let alone damage, of the curse at all.

When it had broken, memories of others had been reset in a fascinating way. Robin rides to Marian’s sister’s house, eavesdropping enough to realize that as far as they both are concerned, Marian has been living here, with her family, for two years, and has never birthed or mothered a child.

What Regina’s mother has done has been horrifying to everyone, but none more than to poor Marian. The lack of memory is a blessing, one Robin is intent to keep.

A quick visit to a village tavern finds that the people believe that King Richard is still a widower looking for wife. King Richard himself must have no memories of marriage. There is talk of a new bride being snuck into the castle after hours, but no one mentions Regina.

The Merrie Men believe Regina has been with Robin all along, completely blind to the curse.

Cora does memory curses _quite_ well. She’s erased every trace of herself, everything that would have an entire kingdom hunting for her. Clever, so clever she is.

Breaking the curse erases a lot of the damage, but not all. It did not erase Robin or Regina’s memories...after all, they were the ones who broke the curse.

So they are to suffer those memories on their own.

At least, that’s what they believe, until a small blonde woman in bright green garb comes knocking on the inn door.

“Can we help you?” Robin asks. Her cheeks are flushed and she is panting. Many villagers seek out  Regina’s healing powers, and perhaps news of their new location has already spread.  Bad for their apparent discretion, but good for this woman, given the urgent state she appears to be in. 

“Cora is coming for you both!” The woman pants, “I’m here to take you, I have enough pixie dust to take you somewhere safe, if we go now.”

Regina is at the door at her words, a sense of impending dread rising within her… dread, and mild distrust.

“Pixie dust? Are you a fairy?”

“Yes,” she breathes. “I’m Green, but they call me Tinker Belle. Regina, your family is in danger, you know Cora will return.”

“I do,” Regina agrees. “I also have no idea if she’s sent you and this is a trap. So just give me a moment.”

She raises her hand to conduct a magical test, to make sure that what this woman says is true, but Tink only raises her hand. “She tracks you with your magic!” she gasps, “She will be able to know where you are once you use it, unless I help you hide your track, which I can, I—“

“We are right here, close to where Cora separated us last,” Regina mutters. “She can find us easily. I’ve been waiting for her. It’s all I can do.”

And with that she flicks her hand and enables the spell she’s learned specifically for this situation.

“Now, you so-called fairy,” Regina looks her over. “Tell me that your dress is red.”

“But my dress is not red!” Tink exclaims, confuses.

“I didn’t ask what color it was, Tink. I asked you to tell me the dress is red.”

“My dress is re-re—.” Tink’s face screws in confusion, and she looks at Regina inquisitively.

“I put a truth telling spell on you,” Regina explains. “And it worked. So now, tell you really are, and why you are really here.”

“I’m a fairy, but I might not be for long, because I’m with you against orders. Blue and I, we saw the destruction Cora caused, but Blue said not to interfere, that Cora has a stranglehold on you and if we involve ourselves we may corrupt fairy magic. I don’t believe it to be true. I come to you in human form because if I use my fairy form, Blue will find me. We need to leave now. Cora only has not come for yet because she is planning something _terrible._ And I can’t let her do it to you or your family. This,” she points to the small burlap bag in her hand, “is pixie dust. It can get us somewhere she can’t find us, at least temporarily, and perhaps we can work on a solution.”

Regina isn’t trustworthy, by nature. But she trusts in her own abilities, trusts in the truth telling hex she put on this fairy, and of course, she trusts in the fact Cora is coming for them, and that she has something terrible planned.

And she’s not ready for her, truly. Her magic just isn’t strong enough to battle someone on Cora’s level.

So Regina takes a leap of faith, and puts all her trust in a fairy dressed as a commoner.

She turns to Robin and drinks him in. He’s tense and worried, clutching to Henry possessively.

He doesn’t trust the fairy either, she thinks. But he’s worried, he knows

“She’s right, Robin. My mother won’t give up. She still thinks I’m her path for power and revenge over those who wronged her. She declared to the world that I would one day be queen, and she won’t rest until she’s right, Robin. She’ll destroy everything in its path to make it so.”

“So we go with…” he looks at Tinker Belle with disdain, “This _alleged_ fairy who dresses like a peasant?”

“Yes,” Regina says. “Because my mother is coming, and she will trace my magic, and I can’t hide us.”

“She cannot track pixie dust that is not meant for her,” Tinker Belle explains. “Robin, are you ready?”

He distrusts magic. Always has, and she fears he always will. He’s looking at her with pain, and maybe some fear.

But thank the gods above, he trusts her. She holds out her hand, and he nods, slightly, adjust the babe in his arm and reaches his free hand to grasp at hers.

“We’re ready.”

She’s never seen pixie dust before. It is golden green, shines so strong it rivals the sun. she barely feels it on her skin as Tinker Belle sprinkles it on their clothes. It’s ethereal, almost closer to a beam of light than grains of sand.

It calms her as it touches her forehead, sets her mind into a blissful state. Everything is serene, she doesn’t worry when her vision blurs, when she feels wind whipping at her fact, bushes and trees just a hint of green and brown wizzing at her side.

And then it all stops, and she and Robin and the baby are… somewhere else. She’s inside a little house, small, but odd. Full of things she doesn’t recognize, contraptions that she’s not seen as her timea’s peasant or queen.

“You’ll be safe here,” the fairy whispers.

“Where are we?” Regina asks, looking around.

“You are in a realm where magic can’t follow,” Tinker Belle explains tentatively. “This is a small bubble, a hideaway where fairies can come and go and transport those being hunted by sorcerers. Magic exists here, in his hut, but not outside it. If Cora ever was to find you here — doubtful since she and Rumple are hideous at real hoping — you need only go outside to evade her magic.”

“So we are… running away?” Robin asks. “My men, I won’t ever see them again? There won’t be any chance of me ever reconciling with my family, it is all gone forever?”

“What you decide is up to you,” Tinker Belle offers slowly. “This is just a place for safe keeping. But yes, you could make a life here. This world is very different from our own. So much is a great deal better, and so much is a great deal harder. If you decide to stay here, with your son, it is certainly a noble option. Easiest for your son. A sure way to escape, to live.”

“But my men,” Robin argues, “What if Cora goes after them and I’m not there to protect them?”

“It’s not just your men,” Regina grits. “It’s everyone. She won’t stop. She never will, not while she’s consumed by revenge.”

“You know of your mother and her ability to take a heart out of a breathing person’s chest.” Tink friends, walking over to a far bookshelf that’s in the room. “When you remove a heart, you can more easily ignore your conscience. Your humanity. You can avoid loving, and truly caring about anyone. To some people, this is the greatest power of all. To be able to wield power, cause destruction, without feeling a hint of remorse, without having aspirations poisoned by love and emotion.”

“She took her own heart out.” Regina says it simply, the breath completely knocked out of her. It makes sense, how her mother was able to casually threaten the death of her own grandchild, how could she so easily kill Daniel.

Tinker Belle only nods, but there’s something in her eyes, something soft and… it’s pity, Regina realizes.

He voice wavers, her eyes water as she finds the strength to ask, “When? When did she...?”

“Years before you were born. Before she married your father, even.”

It hits her harder than she imagined, hearing it. Because although she supposes she’s always known, but this confirms it.

“She never loved me,” she whispers. Robin’s hand sweeps steadily across her back, Tinks head tilts, heavy with sympathy.

“She couldn’t.” Tink soothes, “She didn’t know how.”

“We need to stop her,” Regina sighs. She looks at Robin, holding Henry, their sensitive, vulnerable child. They have to do everything in their power. For the life of their child.

“We need her heart,” Regina breath. “And I know where it is. And I know how to get it. But after that…”

She looks at the bookshelf full of books. “I can’t imagine there’s much chance of it, but are there any spell books in here?”

Tink nods, pointing to an impressive collection on the far right corner.

“This entire house was built to defeat dark magic,” she reminds. “The collection is at your disposal.”

“Good,” Regina bends to kiss Henry’s forehead and then Robin’s.

.::.

Regina wishes she had longer to plan, but she knows Cora will start killing Robin’s men if she does not return swiftly. So they act swiftly.

She gives Tink her blood, and a map of where she suspects Cora’s heart is hidden. Her spell room, sealed with blood magic.

Cora would think it safe to leave such a well-locked place unguarded.

Tink brings it back, her face screwed and shocked as she hands Regina the charred, blackened lump that Regina supposes is still a heart, of sorts.

Tink warns her that this heart has a protective spell on it. Regina won’t be able to crush it without advanced magic, even if she wanted to.

But crushing hearts is powerful dark magic, and Regina is not skilled in darkness, not truly.

She has another plan.

She was trained as a healer. Trained to identify an illness, drawing out infection and cleansing it, purifying it.

Her magic is weak, and she is terribly untrained. But she has the knowledge of a healer and the love of her son and her husband, and with that, she might just have a shot.

.::.

She works herself to the bone, and does not sleep their first night in this safe hut. Since the curse broke, he has itched to reconnect with her, over and over, assure her and himself that they are both safe, and together.

“Maybe we should just stay here,” Robin whispers on the second night in the realm without magic. Regina has been practicing her magic, but she’s frustrated and failing, and he’s picked up on it.

“We can’t leave our friends, our _family,”_ Regina shakes her head. “Your men risked their lives for me on multiple occasions. Without even a second thought. And my mother will find out how much I care, and she will ruin everyone I love, bit by bit, until I come home to her. I can’t have their blood on my hands. I have to protect them.”

“I can’t lose you,” he voices softly. “If you fight, and I lose you—”

“You wanted a stubborn woman,” she reminds, winking at him. “If I were to do as you say, I wouldn’t be the person you fell in love with.”

He tries to smile at that, but it never meets his eyes and she knows it, the way she sighs, runs fingers through his hair and tells him it will be okay. And he begs her to stay, whispers words of love and eternal devotion, voices his fear of losing her again (after all, he’s lost her so much).

She says doesn’t feel worthy of all this love, not at all, and he decides to spend a lifetime convincing her otherwise.

.::.

He worries too much for her.

He worries too much, loves too deeply, and he’ll never let her go to fight Cora, not this soon, not this quickly.

But she has to go.

So she does.

On the third night in the new realm, Regina waits until she hears the steady breathing of her son and husband, their rhythmic tell-tale sighs that mean they have settled into deep sleep. And then she steals away into the kitchen and summons Tinkerbelle with the potions kept for such a purpose, and begs her to take her back to the realm.

“If I should die,” Regina swallows heavily. “You refuse to take Robin back to that Enchanted Forest. Tell him he isn’t to risk Henry’s life, tell him it was my dying wish that he stay here, where it’s safe.”

Tink promises her, but the thing about fairies is, they believe in fairy tales more than anything.

She believes that good always defeats evil. So Tink tells her not to worry, that she will win this.

And Regina smiles, and pretends she just as confident as she sprinkles the pixie dust over her and travels back to the realm of her birth.

.::.

Regina travels back to her cottage, intending to wait for her mother there. But the second she arrives she finds mother already sitting at her kitchen table, waiting.

When the magic whooshes Regina in, Cora does not rouse, does not appear at all surprised. She just smiles in that all-too-amused way. She already thinks she has won, of course.

Who is Regina, except an unskilled, self-taught witch. How could she really battle the likes of Cora Mills, one of the best sorcerer’s in the world?

Cora clicks the side of her tea cup as if she were waiting and becoming terribly bored. “Regina, darling, did you _really_ think you could run from me and I wouldn’t find you?”

“Trust me, if I wanted you to not find me you never would. But I’m not running from you, Mother. I can’t leave everyone else to become victim to your path of destruction. This ends now.”

“It does. I had to plan something _special_ this time, since you and that dirty forest boy and that mistake of yours have a way of finding each other even with the strongest of memory curses. My dear girl, I’m afraid you both can’t exist. I’m afraid I was right the first time, with Daniel.”

“You’ll never find him.” Regina whispers.

“Oh please, Regina. It won’t take me long. There’s pixie dust on your neck, dear.” Cora flicks her wrist before Regina can react, and the pixie dust is flying off her skin, soaring, making its way to Cora. “Do you really think the fairies can keep a secret? I know their little hiding spots.”

It’s Regina can do to grab Cora’s arm the second the dust hits her.

And then they are whizzing together, jumping realms.

The serene feeling comes back to her during this time, eerie and ominous considering what will happen. But you cannot fight while transporting realms, cannot talk, cannot do anything it seems except prepare for what you find at your destination.

It’s only a few seconds in transit, but Regina prepares herself well.

The moment the hut appears around them, Regina focuses on one of the few spells she knows and blesses her reflexes as she is able to stun her mother, if only for a few moments.

It doesn’t really do much except distract her. And she wants Cora nice and distracted. Wants her to forget all about Henry and Robin and whatever fate she has in store for them (death, presumably, but somehow she imagines Cora has a fate worse than death planned).

“Regina,” Cora almost laughs. “Darling, you can’t believe a little spell like that will defeat me? Darling, you always rejected magic, and look at how utterly weak you are. I’m embarrassed, truly.”

“Regina?” Robin is barefoot and in underclothes, carrying their son, walking out of their bedroom _towards_ Cora, towards _danger,_ and she could just about kill him.

Cora chuckles deeply. “Almost too easy,” she says lowly.

Regina can’t express what she feels at that moment, but she knows her magic has never been as much, or as powerful as it is in that moment. Her mind goes white, unable to contain all the emotion. She is able to push back the anger and hatred towards her mother, and focus on love, instead.

Love always came more natural to her than hate too.

Magic flies out of opened palms in steady, overflowing white streaks and pummels Cora.

But it’s not dark magic.

It won’t kill.

She channels all that emotion, all her love, all her wishes and hopes for the future, everything pouring out of her. Every last thing of her childhood she wishes Cora could have been, every last painful thing she suffered that she hopes Mother will regret one day.

For the first time in Regina’s life, she sees what her mother looks like when she is truly scared. Her fact is screwed in shock, eyes wide and glaring absolutely petrified as she feels it, Regina knows she feels it.

Cora is in pain, but Regina isn’t focusing on causing such pain. She ignores the few lessons Rumple may have given her in exchange for something….softer.

She focuses on healing.

Her mother is sick, terribly sick, and she needs to be healed.

“Stop, Regina, please!” her mother is on the ground now, curled up into a ball, but Regina is still focusing positive energy inside her, won’t stop, can’t. “It’s too much, too much, Regina, I understand, I—”

Regina doesn’t let up. She keeps a steady stream of magic until it simply trickles to a stop.

Her mother is writing in pain, but Regina did not cause that pain.

“Regina, love, What—”

“Stay there!” she screams at Robin. “Don’t approach her. Keep my son safe.”

“I want to keep _you_ safe too!” He argues, but Regina shoots him a look he’s learned better to argue over.

The look she gave him when he was a thief in the woods and she a missing princess.

He almost smirks as he retreats a few steps, giving Cora space.

Cora tries to stand, fails twice, clutching at her chest, clawing at it as if there were something eating her from the inside out.

“Regina! What have you done?” She’s in tears now, and good. She deserves the pain.

Cora tries to run. She tries to disappear.

But she cannot poof away. She desperately tries to flick her wrists, aiming at some fallen pixie dust on the ground, but the powerful dust does not move from its spot.

Cora is terrified.

“What have you done to me?” she asks “I feel, _everything_ and I can’t...I can’t do _anything._ I’m powerless!”

Regina only looks at her with pure pity. “Mother. Feelings are good. Feelings are _human._ You’ll come to see that this is better than being a monster. There’s pain, there’s guilt, regret, and feeling all of that after decades of avoiding it…. Well, I don’t envy what you now. But one day maybe you will be able to feel joy. And when you do, actual joy, perhaps it will all be worth it.”

Her mother contemplates Regina’s words and then realization dawns on her. She clutches at her chest again, now listening, feeling.

“You gave me my heart back, somehow. You made me _weak!_ ”

“I _cured_ you,” Regina corrects. “The dark magic inside you was a cancer. I healed it. I gave you your heart so goodness can grow. But rest assured, mother. _Magic_ never will grow inside you again.”

Regina tosses a spell book at her mother, the dog eared page outlining exactly what she has done.

And Cora is speechless, absolutely speechless and terrified.

“What will I do?” She asks her daughter, pleading at her with wild eyes. “Where will I go? Magic has been all I’ve had for so long. I cannot survive on my own without it, I’ll just be…. I’ll be a—”

“You’ll be a wealthy woman married to someone ninth in line to the king. Your life will be a blessed one. Though I would treat my father well. You won’t be able to manipulate him with spells and hexes anymore. You’ll have to find a new hobby.”

Regina grabs a sack of pixie dust, holding the tiniest amount in her hand. Her mother suddenly looks so small, so frail.

It’s terrible, Regina things, terrible that she loves her mother still, after everything the woman has done. Perhaps she always will love her, a part of her. Yet she knows she cannot trust her.

“Goodbye mother,” Regina whispers, throwing the dust on her. “Take this as a second chance. Try to see the good in the world. Try to do good. You have everything you need — wealth, a strong heart, and time. Try to heal.”

She doesn’t know why the sight of her mother _leaving_ causes her to collapse into tears. She should be celebrating now.

But Robin’s arms are around her as he dots kisses across her hairline. “It’s okay, Regina, I know. I know.”

“She never loved me,” Regina croaked. “For so long, all I wanted was her to love me, and—”

“I know, my love, I know.” He whispers into her ear, rocking and swaying her. “It’s all over now. And you were brilliant, and you were kind. You didn’t succumb to dark magic, and I am so proud of you.”

She doesn’t know if Cora ever truly heals. Without the threat of her mother hanging over her, she makes contact with her father again.

Henry is elated that his daughter is actually alive. He doesn’t mind that she isn’t a queen. He doesn’t care about her small little cottage or the fact her husband engages in thievery. All he wants is her happiness.

Henry Sr. sneaks away to see her alone, saying he does not want to involve Cora in this matter. For after all, Regina is the runaway queen, and to find her alive and not report it to authorities would be high treason. He uses that excuse, but Regina knows Cora is still too ashamed to face her daughter. Henry mentions that Cora was thrown from a horse one day while out for a forest ride (that’s the lie Cora told, interesting), and since then she’s never used magic, and has been increasingly respectful.

“She’s changed, darling, she has.” Henry assures her.

Regina isn’t sure this is the case, but she smiles and accepts her father's word for it, anyway.

Maybe one day, maybe when Cora is ready to die, she will seek her out her daughter and Regina will see if there is change herself. But for now, Cora is trapped in a prison she built, full of guilt and regret and the pain she denied hersel to feel for years.

As for Regina, her life is more blessed than she could have known. She has the intense, passionate love she hadn’t ever dreamed could exist in any realm. Robin makes her deliriously happy, and she is so proud to have him as a husband, and so, so, fortunate.

This is despite the fact that she does not have magic — not anymore. It appears that curing her mother had taken every ounce of power Regina had within her, and that is fine by her. She has Henry and Robin, and that’s all she needs.

Robin, who fixes roofs by day and steals from the rich and gives to the poor by night, who tells her he loves her in words and action every day. And Henry, sweet Henry, who curls up in the arms and makes her feel safe and loved. Henry, whose magic grows each day, a light and happy magic that flows as gently as an autumn breeze.

For much of her life, her family focused on destroying lives and climbing on top of those that fell in their path. Now her life is the exact opposite, and it’s more perfect than she could have known.


End file.
